


Sunlight

by LunaDePlata



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Akechi Goro Lives, Akechi Goro Redemption, Cameos, F/F, M/M, Minor Suou Katsuya/Amano Maya, Minor Suzui Shiho/Takamaki Ann, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Persona 5 Protagonist is from Inaba, Shadow Operatives, Slow Burn, So Many Cameos, its persona series and not just persona 5 for a reason, longfic, minor relationships to be added, minor souyo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 141,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26075824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaDePlata/pseuds/LunaDePlata
Summary: Goro Akechi finds himself very much alive and very much paranoid, flees Tokyo so he can separate himself from everything and everyone, ending up in Sumaru City.Akira Kurusu survives a year in Inaba, a place where everyone hates him.Futaba finds love in Tokyo's streets.Exposing things to sunlight can help kill germs.This isn't a flower child AU.Updates every weekend.Edit: please read chapter 21! It's an announcement :)
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist, Hanamura Yosuke/Narukami Yu, Hanamura Yosuke/Seta Souji, Kitagawa Yusuke & Sakura Futaba, Kurosu Jun/Suou Tatsuya, Sakura Futaba/Yoshizawa Sumire | Yoshizawa Kasumi
Comments: 297
Kudos: 421





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! it's my first work here. I wanted to make something where Goro fucks around and accidentally gets a redemption arc.

A bright light filtered through his long eyelashes as he fought to understand his surroundings, to hold on, despite the weight on his chest and the feeling that despite anything he did, he would end up drifting away anyways and all he was doing was prolong his suffering, make himself wait longer for the swift silence of a lack of existence. Even now, he desired the pain and not the silence, the sensation that all he had done, everything he had fought so hard for, the lives he ripped apart, the loneliness, the anger, had been worth  _ something _ . 

(He had cut the strings that weighed him to a life of poverty and obscurity, the darkness that engulfed broken children like him. He had clawed himself out of that pit and into the light, only to find out that he had only been tied up with stronger shackles.)

So he waited.

And wait he did.

Yet no darkness claimed him.

Perhaps, he was so unwanted, so foul, so undeserving of love, not even death wanted him.

The surrounding breeze only became louder, the light harsher, the pain sharper, the warmth on his back hotter.

His fingers came in contact with a warm, rough surface, and in the back of his mind he wondered why he could feel the sensation at all, as the leather should mute it-

Oh.

How disgusting.

He finally dared to open his eyes, allowing himself a moment of private cowardice even if the low rumble in the back of his head told him to stand up, to stop making a fool of himself. He was better than that. 

The first thing he noticed was the dark metal. The second, the tall fence. The third, the pain.

It was harsh and striking, leaving an angry sensation all over his legs, all over his back, which worsened the moment he sat up, letting out a low groan.

He wasn’t supposed to be here.

He wasn’t supposed to be breathing.

Had his fight been for nothing? His sacrifice, an untimely attempt at redemption. Had those people died only for him, the evil, the rotten, to survive?

He let out a chuckle, which quickly turned into a disbelieving laugh. His chest was shaking, his face hurt, his glove (only one, only one, only one-) grabbing his clothes, trying to reach deeper, to stop the foreign sensation from pouring all over like the water that fell from his cheeks.

There was a man sitting on the sidewalk somewhere in Tokyo laughing because he wished he was dead and not even death wanted him.

  
  


Rising up was harder than expected, his knees threatened to give out at any moment, and the weight in his chest wasn’t any less painful than before, yet he could not risk being seen like this. In fact, he couldn’t be seen like this at all. He patted himself up, trying to confirm that indeed, he was here, in all his rotten glory, bleeding on the underside of his arms and staining his cognac coat, the knees of his trousers ripped, the shine of his shoes gone in the aftermath of a fall so cruel he deserved to have been conscious so at least he could’ve experienced some justice for the pain he had caused.

And now.. what else? Taking his life felt like cowardice to him, and he had the nagging feeling that if he tried that death would just spit him back out in disgust.

So, he would live. Take a shower in his apartment. Think of what to do when his only reason to keep killing had been snatched out of his hands, and the will to keep fighting had already been resolved.

Here he was, walking down the street, back in the mundane, a puppet with strings cut loose laying down, bent in an unnatural pose.

As he walked, the blood was getting dry and cakey, and oh, he needed a good long shower. Most likely a new coat too, as this one has been completely ruined. What a shame, it was designer, one of the luxuries he gave himself so others would see his success, his beauty, his natural superiority, and more secretly, wasting Shido’s money in something so frivolous made him feel a little spike of delight-

A fact pierced through his skull faster than anything else.

Shido.

His apartment.

His bank account.

His bed.

His life, despite how worthless that was.

He wasn’t stupid, Shido wasn’t the only man wanting Goro dead, and he was sure that his bank account would be severed sometime soon, if it hadn’t happened already. Perhaps, as he was just a puppet, just another cog in the machine, the money flowing into his pockets hadn’t been noticed yet. That left him hopeful.

What was left for him in Tokyo? It’s not like he had any reason to live, even less to stay in a single place. He had no family, he had no friends. Nobody who would miss him if he was gone all of a sudden. For a moment, a mop of unruly black curls, a cup of coffee and a sweet deep voice greeting him flashed in his mind, yet he paid the images no mind. 

Nobody loved a calculated killer, much less a rabid monster. There had only been pity in those grey eyes, Goro reasoned with himself when he could almost feel the phantom tug on the sleeve of this same coat and words telling him his death was no trivial matter, that he had someone who cared.

Pity, nothing else.

His mouth felt dry, his exposed hand cold, and he craved a cup of coffee.

Still, he willed himself to reach his apartment, avoiding the stares of those who noticed the kid with bloody arms and messy caramel hair. He had chosen to go through as many backstreets as he could, as being noticed a little too much could bring dark consequences. He tried to carry himself as well as he could, his legs subtly shaking while he ignored the searing pain every time he took too long of a step. His dignity came first, he wouldn’t let others see his weakness. The world worked that way, after all, people take any chance to bite at each inch of vulnerability you show, consume the blood while they rip you apart, and always want to destroy further, to bring you down faster into their failure, to laugh while you drown. Goro was convinced he wouldn’t let them have a single drop, which gave him enough strength to keep walking up the stairs and into his small apartment, locking the door after three attempts where he whined in frustration because his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

The relief that washed all over his features the moment he could rest was immeasurable, sinking against the doorframe and letting himself breathe for a moment. 

Goro knew he had very little time if he wanted to come out alive out of all of this, he was sure of it, but moving could wait just a few more moments.

* * *

Five became seven, seven became nine, and despite Morgana’s yelling for him to move his ass somewhere and do something, Akira stayed in bed just a little while longer. He kept his thumb scrolling down picture after picture, liking a few, trying not to use his brain cells if he could avoid it. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t neither sleep, nor move. It was as if he was in his own personal limbo, a place between sleep and productivity, pillows and homework, which he would decorate in red, as he was a little too tired of blue. 

Not even Morgana inching his claws closer could take him out of this endless scrolling hell, no matter how sharp and potentially face damaging they might b- “Fine, fine, I’m moving, I’m moving!” He groaned, finally peeling himself off the screen and proceeding to get up off the flimsy mattress he called a bed. Well, it was good while it lasted.

Akira knew the days were waning, that his time in Tokyo was quickly disappearing, and he knew he had to enjoy every second of them, yet the urge to mope and mourn in bed had been tempting, and that is how he found himself having not done much, and before he could realise it, the next day he would be on a train back to Inaba. 

Despite having fought a fake god and a man with newfound godhood and on top of that, spending a few days in juvie, he was expected to rise up, keep going, keep running around with a smile on his face with his friends, and after that obediently go back to his hometown as if nothing had happened.

Akira was tired.

Was there anything back there waiting for him? It had been months since his parents last contacted him, and the contact had been, in a cold, harsh tone, that they were sending the rest of his things to Tokyo, that he better go pick them up and be grateful, for wasting their time.

A pang of sadness echoed through his chest, and he glanced over at the many gifts his friends had given him, echoes of a year covered in struggle, yet nonetheless so sweet. Morgana hadn’t said much as he watched Akira approach the trinkets, his blue eyes soft and understanding. His efforts were with good intentions, he tried to keep Akira upright as much as he could, tried to stop the fearless leader from crumbling and imploding, and for that, he had to keep moving. While he had promised Akira to go with him, he was aware how painful being separated from his friends was going to be, and pretended not to notice the way Akira’s hand tenderly moved closer to the bowl Ryuji had given him, the way his lips tilted upwards, the care which with he packed every single gift, one by one, taking a moment to admire them, to reminisce. 

What was more beautiful than Ann’s laugh, than Futaba’s rambles, than Haru’s hands, Makoto’s reserved smiles? What was waiting for him back home except judging stares and meals eaten alone?

Would Yusuke be fine? What about Sumire? Ryuji? He knew he could call them, text them, maybe even had a video call or two. Maybe he could invite his rival for a match of-

Oh. 

Akira stopped himself, swallowing down the nerves on his throat, the rigidness of his back, the smell of vanilla and sandalwood and drying blood that looked a little too similar to the most beautiful, yet ruthless, pair of eyes he had ever seen-

He wondered if Yusuke was going to wear yet again that ridiculous scarf, as he would like to tease him in person just one more time. Maybe Ryuji would laugh along. Maybe Haru would accidentally say something even better than what he could come up with. They were all going on their separate ways, but it was nice to think about it, what if they had stayed.

He knew their bond would inevitably change, with all of them, and that sentence stuck in his mind a lot deeper than he was aware of, the frown setting on his face as he continued packing, planning to get most of it done so the rest of the day he could go out and see the people his heart yearned for.

He glanced back at Morgana as he came closer, his involuntary frown melting into a fond smile as he moved to pet his soft fur, which elicited a purr from his feline friend. That’s right, he wouldn’t be completely alone.

  
  
  
  
  


The moment he glanced up at the blue sky and the winter midday sun, the weight he unconsciously carried on his shoulders melted away, giving place to a sense of adventure. That’s right, the ex Phantom Thieves had planned a whole day of exploring around the city, eating trashy food, playing at the arcade, and at Ann’s request, getting Akira a few new outfits. He let out a soft breath, smiling as he carried Morgana alongside him towards the station. He was going to enjoy the last few moments with his friends, no matter the strange empty feeling in the depths of his heart, or the hand on his pocket that kept mindlessly caressing worn black leather.

* * *

  
  


It felt as if the water couldn’t be hot enough to wash away the blood on his hands. Red eyes stared at his own fingers, absolutely covered in thin white scars, the broken skin glinting under the bathroom light, pale and fragile digits that had held cruelty between them time after time.

For a moment he wondered how hard could it be to crush someone’s throat with them.

He willed himself to place them back against the hot stream of the glass shower, head tilting back as he let out a pained groan.

The pool of pink water under him grew, so his eyes stayed upwards, letting the pain wash over his paranoid thoughts. 

How many actually knew about Goro’s.. gift?

How many would be after him? Did they even care?

He clenched his teeth harder. He needed a plan of action, a way to get out of there as soon as possible, just in case. Prepare himself, take as much money from his bank account as he could, make himself disappear. The brown locks had to go, that’s for sure, perhaps even the red eyes. Change his wardrobe, his posture, the list kept going as he tried to cover all possible bases from the top of his head, as he tried to reason with himself that the pain was more than manageable, that this was part of his punishment, to become a shadow among living people, that the darkening in the corners of his eyes was something welcome.

The next moment he was aware of his surroundings he found himself at the bank. The polished marble floor contrasted with Goro’s black shoes as he moved swiftly to take out as much as he could all at once, ignoring the nagging feeling in the back of his neck that he had to hurry, that he had to take more, who knows when everything would collapse all over him and leave him once again a cadaver, this time in the middle of a pristine bank.

His eyes darted around, despite making himself as different to his usual appearance as possible with his limited wardrobe, the dress shirt and the sensible pants could easily be traced back to the detective prince. He had to do something about that. 

He kept stashing the cash in different pockets of the inside of his jacket, till the daily limit stopped him, and Goro retreated, subtly looking around for anyone who felt lucky enough to try and corner him, one of his (once again, finally) gloved hands kept close to the gun he carried. Nobody had patted him at the entrance of the bank, and for a second Goro wondered if anyone else was packing something like himself, but yet again, not everyone was a hitman trying to escape as soon as possible. He said goodbye politely to the guard at the front, putting on a sweet charming smile, that he’d wipe off his face the moment he was out of sight, quickly moving around through the city to get as much done as he possibly could.

After all, he had a hunch that he didn’t have that much time left if he wanted to keep his dignity intact, and not be killed by absolute scum. 

* * *

Going to sleep at five am couldn’t be healthy. But neither could the empty cans of soda littering under the desk, or the closed blinds. Of course, she could go out, she had a lot more experience now, but her room had remained as her safe haven, far off from the tomb it used to be. She felt she could wind down and make a mess out of it, it was her space, and as long as she occasionally cleaned it, everything was okay. And besides, cleaning took hours, and her work was never done. Priorities, Sojiro. Priorities.

While she didn’t snoop around in her friend’s lives that much anymore (except to conveniently send Yusuke market coupons, she knows Inari needs some nutrients in his system, but his stupid hyper focus on any kind of art except the culinary apparently usually meant he could be a little too long without any food inside of him.), it never hurt to keep tabs on their well being. This whole situation had been.. intense, to say the least, and to find herself back into an ordinary life after months of being the support system for her group felt as if something had been uprooted from her. So she couldn’t help but keep caring, and if that meant in Futabanese that she’d occasionally check on her friends through their screens, so be it. Besides, it’s not like she kept it a secret, and nobody told her to stop, so she assumed they also appreciated it. One of her monitors was reserved for that, keeping the many tabs of their screens open, which she would disable when she felt they could use the privacy. She honestly didn’t need to know what Ann was up to with her girlfriend, even if her curiosity knew no bounds. Those conversations weren’t for her to hear, after all.

Only two were kept up permanently. One was Leblanc’s lower floor, because there was no better security system than constantly seeing what was going on through the many bugs all over the establishment, and a black screen that had been like that for a month now.

She occasionally flickered her eyes towards it, as if something would magically happen, and a new arc of Goro Akechi’s story would start, perhaps with a new opening. It wasn’t entirely impossible, the bastard had already respawned once, who was Morgana to say he had truly disappeared? There was no body, nothing to confirm the fact that yes, for sure, Akechi was reduced to ashes and scattered all over somewhere.

So she kept it up. And if he had truly died, well, at least he could rest knowing that at least someone cared a little bit.

It was strange, caring, despite the cockroach being a killer. Knowing he had been manipulated into murder had been a huge factor in swaying her impression of him, but she couldn’t say she forgave him. She couldn’t see herself forgiving him anytime soon, or ever.

But that didn’t stop her, a broken child, wanting to see another broken child be a little better.

Yes, he was an asshole. But people could change, and he never had Morgana alongside him to guide him on how to change a heart, and by the time he was there, Akechi was too far gone to be of any help. At least, she had been willing to give the dude a helping hand. That would leave her at peace.

She was thinking of finally hitting the sheets and getting some zzs, when she got a message. At this hour, she was surprised anyone could be lucid enough to send anything, but there it was, Akira’s chat ID flashing back at her. They had hung out earlier that day, and while she was really trying her best not to show the anguish him leaving them all produced in her, there were times she couldn’t help her frown, especially if she glanced at any nearby clock.

So she distracted herself with him, making him try out space themed sweater after space themed sweater, one more ridiculous than the next, so they could laugh together. Yes, they’d see each other whenever Akira could travel back, but it wouldn’t be the same, and she knew it. So she clung to every moment of normality they had left, but seeing him messaging at such an hour meant something was wrong, possibly very wrong, and she frowned as she brought the phone close to her face.

**5:08**

**[Nasty crime boy]:** Dear Futaba, woman of my life, sister dearest, wise beyond your years.

**[Alibaba]:** dude wtf do u kno what hour it is why isnt mona clawing ur face out

**[Nasty crime boy]:** What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. =u=

**[Nasty crime boy]:** Okay so, I need help with some shit.

**[Alibaba]:** oh so were finally hiding a body together cool whatcha want me to bring bro

**[Nasty crime boy]:** The biggest shovel you have.

**[Alibaba]:** been there done that when we hidin it

**[Nasty crime boy]:** Can you help me find some info? It’s kinda urgent.

**[Alibaba]:** yeah dude whatcha need

**[Nasty crime boy]:** So I’m going back to Inaba, right. 

Akira refused to call that place home, not when his home was there, in Tokyo, in a dark attic with blue light washing all over his face, and not where no matter how much good he did, people would snicker at the criminal anyways, and parents would still refuse to meet his face except when it was to scold him or want something out of him. He was going to miss the dusty space so, so much.

**[Alibaba]:** yeah what bout it 

Futaba refused to call it Akira’s home as well.

**[Nasty crime boy]:** The metaverse cash. I don’t know what to do with it.

**[Alibaba]:** uh u take it w u???

**[Nasty crime boy]:** -.- I can’t take it back there.

**5:10**

**[Alibaba]:** oh

Futaba’s eyes widened as she connected the dots inside her head, nodding to nobody but herself as she tried to concoct a plan inside her head so she could help Akira. He only had to stay with his parents a year longer, didn’t he? if she kept his stuff safe, in very little time he could be free to go wherever he pleased, and not stay with people who barely remembered his name.

**[Alibaba]:** ill look around, getcha a safe spot in a good bank n shit

**[Alibaba]:** but in payment i get to take out some for personal use

**[Nasty crime boy]:** Featherman figures?

**[Alibaba]:** featherman figures.

* * *

  
  


Being this high up shouldn’t be a thing. Neither should the huge windows behind them, yet there wasn’t much someone like him could say about it. The Tokyo skyline shone like jewels in the dark, replacing the stars that could no longer be seen, and despite being in such a tense situation, his shoulders managed to relax a few inches. He turned to the man speaking, a short, yet imposing figure, going over the details they smoothed out a few hours ago while nursing a cup of scotch. It was late, a little too late, and in the morning they all had to pretend as if nothing was happening, as if this night had been nothing but a feverish dream, at least to those that didn't know.

When an emperor is killed, there’s always someone eager to replace him. It was now up to them to repair what was broken, and come out even stronger. And that meant looking around for the missing pieces.

If one of those was a previously valuable asset, even better.


	2. chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goro remembers, Akira cries, Futaba laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Throws chapter at y'all* hope it makes sense, this is a Mess.

A roll of his shoulders later, Akira was stepping out of a car driven by none other than the same doctor he had fought the month before. Closure had a lot less fanfare than he expected, and rather than the searing pain of a fist colliding against his face, or the tension of a counselor’s office that felt a little too sharp on his senses to be completely real, this felt.. cold. 

Disconnected.

He still wasn’t sure if he wanted to be completely aware that he was going back to Inaba.

Ryuji’s cheerful shouts didn’t ground him, nor did almost falling down as he made his way through the station, ignoring the few concerned stares thrown his way. He felt as if he was in autopilot, repeating in his head the words of all his friends and the feeling of hugging each and every one of them the day before, while none of them admitted to the wet patches down their eyes.

Any time he heard a sob from any of them, he just squeezed harder.

That’s how, in his stupor, he almost crashed face first against Sumire, before his eyes refocused, and he could allow her a small smile while she said goodbye to him, or that is what he assumed she had said. He couldn’t concentrate in her words, all he knew is that he wouldn’t see this beautiful face anymore in person, either. But they would text, right? She would call him, wouldn’t she?

But she would be busy, so busy, and no longer would he be able to offer his umbrella to her if it was raining, he wouldn’t know if she was lying when she said she was fine, he wouldn’t be able to comfort her if she wasn’t. 

He ignored the stinging sensation in his eyes, and smiled wider instead.

  
  
  


The seats were uncomfortable.

So was everything around him, and even as the train started to move, Akira couldn’t help but imagine a stick figure of himself jumping off the train and running back to Leblanc, putting the excuse that he had forgotten something and staying a while longer. But Sojiro had made him check everything twice, and there was nothing out of place, so all he could do was squeeze tighter the leather in his pocket and keep going, face forward, trying to fight the bitter sadness that always came wrapped around sweet change.

Morgana raised his head from inside the bag he laid in, staring curiously at the people inside the train, purring when Akira’s fingers pet the back of his ears that particular way he liked and ignoring the way said boy’s head was resting against the window.

_ Just a few more moments of Tokyo, please. _

__

He was about to get lost again in his daydreams when he saw a familiar silhouette.

Akira knew it was his yearning acting up, or perhaps grief drove him crazy for a second back there, because he could’ve sworn he saw long caramel hair shining against the station’s light. It was impossible, he reasoned with the part in his brain screaming  _ Goro, Goro, Goro-! _ , in the whole month after escaping Maruki’s reality he never got a single call, not a single message, not even the green dot indicating he was online, he hadn’t seen him in those days he pretended he was just “sightseeing in Kichijoji” (and ignoring the way Morgana’s face scrunched into the uncanny face of worry that a cat should not, in fact, be able to make), nothing at all.

He had to face the facts: Goro Akechi was dead, had been dead for a whole month, and Akira Kurusu was a fool trying to hold on to a dead person who didn’t even want to be alive in the first place, and now he was seeing random strangers who looked a bit too much like someone he would’ve done anything for in exchange for a real smile.

That hurt him. He knew Goro didn’t actually want to be dead, he couldn’t truly want that, but Akira hadn’t been able to tear his walls down enough to let him see that, and  _ that hurt even more- _ that he hadn’t had enough time for Goro to trust him, to let himself be loved, to let Akira’s warmth in. And he had tried, so much, so hard, yet he had failed. 

Even with a second chance at grasping Goro’s hand, he hadn’t done more than brush it.

(Under the grief and the soft feelings, however, there was a cold shadow of pure seething  _ anger.  _ Goro was dead thanks to a man currently residing in a vip cell. )

He hadn’t realised he was crying till Morgana gently put his paw against his cheek.

“Akira?”

His eyes darted back to his friend, and instead of replying, the only thing he did was lean against the gentle touch, shrugging his shoulders lightly. Morgana nodded, but didn’t dare to say anything else, he had seen more than enough nights when all Akira did was hug himself and try to muffle his ragged sobs so as to not wake him up, and he knew prying further would just result in a sharp denial that  _ no, Morgana, I’m not crying, I’m just overwhelmed. _

Leaders couldn’t cry, after all.

* * *

  
  


Blood pumped hot in his veins as he maneuvered through the city, his walk light and with purpose, feet barely touching the ground before moving once more, red eyes darting around in a silent fight with the feeling of gazes over him, knowing, judging, wanting to see him back in the grave he had escaped from and shouldn’t have. But the grave didn’t admit something so foul, and now there was no turning back. He was fighting against something he wasn’t entirely aware of, yet his years with Shido had given him an idea of just how far his power could truly extend, and the answer was  **far, too far.**

But he was smarter, faster, more resourceful,  _ he had to be _ , and as he straightened his back because not even in his lowest he would show a single sign of weakness, he made up a plan of action.

The day before he had concentrated in the external, he went from store to store, buying clothes that would be as far from the prince’s attire as possible, fabrics that his manager despised and his stylist would have puked at the sight of, colors that complimented nothing and cuts that flattered nobody. Even if his hands subconsciously, as second nature, tried to reach the sensible ties and sharp dress pants, now was not the time for that, and if Goro played his cards right, perhaps it would never be again.

The outfits he had purchased before were varied and uncharacteristic, as the best way to not be seen was acting normal in a strange person’s skin. Out were the whites and pastel colors, in were the browns, the greens and purples, neutral yet dark enough to blend in with the rest of the city, a face that once emitted light in between the commoners now reduced to a mere shadow.

He had tried putting black on his skin, yet he recoiled the moment he saw it, as now it not only reminded him of the excitement and glee of tearing through a shadow and reducing it to the pieces it deserved to be, but his mind was flooded with the images of an affectionate grin by his side, of red gloves resting against the small of his back to keep him steady, of the caring tone of voice with which he was offered healing items-

The longer he held the black fabric, the more it burnt.

  
  


As for his face he knew he had to do something, too many had seen it, too many magazines offered it, too many Instagram posts highlighted it. But what could he do? It was too early for surgery, and to get a dye job he had to face a cashier to pay for a home kit, or even worse, go to a hairstylist. His eyes were unique too, in not only their color but their sharp shape, even acting as the sweet detective prince they were intimidating, and he couldn’t change those, even if the urge to gauge them had struck down his spine for a moment- oh, there would be no need to do that.

He had been taught by someone on how to be unassuming, hadn’t he.

That’s how he suddenly found himself in baggy grey trousers and a too long military green hoodie, drowning in the amount of space between flesh and clothing, lamenting the loss of skin tight outfits that gave his form a good shape and freedom of movement. His walk was also affected by the weight of a backpack with as many things he thought he would need from an apartment he otherwise left untouched. As for his hair he had turned it into an unruly caramel mop, messy, frizzy and tangled, with which, and a pair of fake thick rimmed glasses, he walked through the train station after yet another trip to the bank in search of a ticket to the furthest city he could find in that same day, searching for the most uncharacteristic change he could make, perhaps to throw  _ them _ off, and buy himself some more time.

After some deliberation, he ended up queuing in order to get to the train to the town of Inaba, a place that would be far enough for now, until Goro could come up with a better plan that wasn’t entirely out of impulse. The name “Inaba” sounded familiar for some reason, but in his need to escape, he couldn’t seem to remember how he knew it, all he knew was that escaping mattered, and the rest of his changes could be done in another town, there was no need to make them all in Tokyo. 

Sudden change still made his stomach churn, but surviving came first. And if living with his mother taught him anything, it was that survival came first, and anything on top of it was a luxury to be cherished. He just had to tap back into that, open himself up and pull up the roots, the ones rotten under layers and layers of television appearances, tumultuous conspiracies and backstabbing. A grimace born out of disgust graced his features, knowing that once again he had to rely on those instincts much like a paranoid rat in a sewer, that his star had lost its luster, and never again would he truly see the light of fame and glory, if he had ever even seen it on the first place.

  
  


As he waited, eyes scanning his surroundings, once again he wondered why he was doing this at all, but the mere idea of any of Shido’s men even glancing at his cadaver filled his heart with a fury stronger than any doubt he could have. He was not letting them have this. He was not going down as a puppet, and he would make sure of it. If he died, it was going to be on his terms, nobody else’s.

  
  


The train arrived, people got in, a sea of faces steadily moving, eager to squeeze themselves inside like a bunch of sardines. Goro didn’t register a single face, wouldn’t put them any names, any important features. All he cared was for any shady movement, a hand rummaging too much inside a pocket, eyes trained on him fiercely, a sharp click sound, anything that could let him know there was danger.

The queue moved efficiently, and as he got closer and closer to the train, he let himself have a moment to look around at the place he was leaving forever, in a hurry, with only a backpack to pack what he needed. Some food, some water. Extra clothes. Cash. Medicine. A few concealed weapons. A picture of him and his mother- back when she could smile and wasn’t a nervous wreck the entire time, before she raised her voice too loud and Shido had quickly silenced her.

  
  


How long had it been since he had left new flowers in her grave?

It had been when one of the few only people who ever showed him kindness in that hellhole that was the foster care system took him to the cemetery.

  
  


He couldn’t have been older than eight. 

The government kept throwing him around as if he was nothing but a ragged doll, the children kicked him down further, and at the end of every day Goro felt as if he had a little less stuffing. He missed his mama, but since he was such a horrible ungrateful brat, a burden, and she was so tired because she worked so much to keep him alive, she had gone to sleep, and never woke up.

The tub full of blood still felt so foreign, despite the night spent alongside it, crying softly as he had tried to wake her up with no results.

He missed her even if he knew she wasn’t coming back.

But he could leave pretty flowers where she slept now, couldn’t he?

They showed that once in a movie he watched with all the other kids at the institution and Goro had thought it was beautiful.

Then how come nobody wanted to take him? Or at least tell him where it was! He was a big kid, he could go there by himself!

He had even seen the perfect flowers for her, big blue and beautiful, like her favorite dress, the one she wore when they went to the festival together, the one Goro excitedly asked for her to twirl in, because it shone in the most beautiful way he had ever seen, and it contrasted so well with those bright red eyes, a red so bright Goro would only see it again a decade later in gloved hands.

Despite asking for weeks for someone to take him to the cemetery, nobody did.

The flowers wilted and died, and so did Goro’s hope of taking them to his mama.

A month later, the institution brought in a therapist. 

Goro wouldn’t see her for long, as he would be assigned to a foster family a while later, but to this day he vividly remembered how she snook him out of the institution, holding his hand in a firm grip, so he could go see his mama despite the rain.

Maki-san, or at least that’s the name he remembered, bought for him fresh blue flowers tied with a red ribbon at the nearby flower shop, and kept holding his hand as Goro placed the bouquet over the grave, face neutral, as big kids didn’t cry, and if you asked him why his tiny knuckles were white against the woman’s hand, he would’ve said it was because of the cold.

The noise rain water made against the umbrella was loud enough to cover what Goro said to his mama, and Maki-san didn’t ask about it, only offering him a soft smile, her beauty mark moving along with her lips in a way he had never seen before, just like her short brown hair or the way she could just.. smile, at the doll without stuffing. He hadn’t known people could come in shapes like her, like she understood what it was like to be broken.

  
  
  


He never got to say goodbye to her, either.

And now, even if he found her, he was so far from repair, he was sure the sight of him would only make her recoil in disgust.

  
  


In between his rumination he suddenly wondered if he had enough time to go see his mother’s grave, before leaving this place and never returning. The train was there, the people were boarding, the day was moving too fast, and soon Goro would be leaving.

A pang of pain rang through him, and he thought about it better. A ticket wasn’t worth that much.

A bouquet of blue flowers wasn’t worth that much either.

He turned around and began briskly walking away, for now leaving the possibility of Inaba behind him.

* * *

Once again, it was five am.

The chair stopped spinning once more (it has  _ wheels _ , Sojiro. Wheels! How can she not spin on it??) in a satisfying return to the middle of her desk, where the cups were already accumulating, but hey, no more soda cans. That,  _ Sojiro, Akira _ , was progress. And besides, she was busy being the best friend she could be, because nobody else in the group could be trusted with this much sensible information all at once and at the same time expected to keep their mouth shut about it.

Turns out Akira had a lot of Metaverse money.

More than enough to escape with, hell, Akira could easily buy himself a whole new wardrobe, a ticket to escape to the middle of South America and remake his life there under the name of Lucas Fernandez, a super computer, and as much Featherman merch he could think of, and still have money left. 

If Futaba was a little less smart, she would’ve leaped with joy at the sight of the numbers. However, she wasn’t, and the sight only left her frowning and wondering where the hell she could put the sum without too many questions asked, yet with enough security that the lack of questions didn’t mean they were planning to rob it.

She began looking around, bank after bank, yet found flaws in many of them, the passwords were too weak, there would be questions asked, she didn’t like the card’s color scheme, the manager was shady.

Oh, it was late. She blew her hair away from her face in tired frustration as she went through the next candidate, first looking around superficially, before diving in and snooping as far as she was able to, which meant wherever the hell she wanted, she was goddamn Alibaba after all. The layers upon layers of security meant nothing to her.

It seemed pretty normal at first, the activity of the bank didn’t look that shady, most of the clients had enough money that Akira’s sum would be considered average at best, and it wouldn’t be hard to set up an account there. 

Something, however, made her pause.

Someone had been making a few very bold moves with their account. They seemed to be emptying it, when she looked further into it out of nothing but curiosity, in a very hurried fashion. The name the account was under, as well, seemed a little off.

Futaba really hoped no parent had called their son “Anaru”, because if they had, damn,

His parents were assholes.

She was invested in Anaru-kun’s legacy now, however, so she decided to search him up, to see what was really going on. Maybe the poor man was leaving a life of bullying behind after too many poorly timed jokes. Maybe the bank had written the name wrong and now it was too late, so Anaru-kun was searching for a new place to put his money in, being incredibly offended. Maybe his parents never were exposed to the english language and this was just a silly coincidence in an attempt to create a cute sounding name. She was grinning the whole way as she explored, laughing each time the name appeared in documentation, which seemed to abruptly end without that much detail, so she began looking somewhere else trying to find this guy’s origin story.

…

  
  


She wasn’t sure what to expect when she followed the paper trail, but she definitely hadn’t expected Shido.

  
  


Any semblance of a smile wiped off her face immediately, and instead she scowled, trying to understand what was going on with the huge amounts of exclusively cash, untraceable compared with a credit card, being pulled out all of a sudden.

Shido was in jail, they had made sure of it, the man himself hadn’t wanted to get out of his cell. Was this an attempt from his goons to bail him out? Hadn’t they defeated the bad guys?

They couldn’t be raising up again this fast.

This didn’t make any sense unless-

She looked further, pulling out card receipts, timestamps, and people associated with the account, which would lead her to the second surprise of the evening.

Behind the pseudonym of the pseudonym, branching out from yet another pseudonym, the actual main user of the account was Akechi, Goro.

  
  


She shook her head in disbelief, letting out a small, choked up laugh at her discovery. The fun silly name was the coverup for the account with which Shido paid Akechi for the murders, and she would be surprised if it wasn’t also a jab at Akechi himself. 

The whole thing gave her whiplash, the nightmarish feeling settling in her stomach as she thought up possible reasons why the account of a dead person was suddenly funneling out so much money.

(She decided to ignore the small flame of hope inside of her telling her that perhaps it was as simple as Akechi being alive and well, and trying to finally sever all ties to Shido, but reality had never been kind to the detective prince, and the few times it had been neutral, Akechi had replied by creating his own despair. She couldn’t have hope, not until she knew more.)

She decided to go to sleep for a few hours and continue the search through a dead person’s financial trash later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those that have stopped by to read Sunlight! And thank you so much for the kudos!! Feedback is welcome!!


	3. chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira arrives to Inaba.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are gonna get longer after this one.

A ray of sunlight fell over Akira’s sleeping figure, highlighting his black hair and showing the small wisps of silver in between. He was out cold, glasses reflecting some of the nearby reds and yellows, framing the few remains of crooked eyeliner Futaba had drawn on him the day before.

Morgana kept watch, looking at the couple near them as they huddled close to watch a video on his phone, her hands holding his arms up so they wouldn’t get tired. They looked peaceful enough in their own little world the few seconds Morgana had studied them, before his eyes lost interest and he moved on, to the little girl constantly fiddling with the beads on her pink sweater, then to the man smiling at his phone screen and to the woman carrying a small dog in her bag, which she kept giving treats to. Ugh, why hadn’t he thought of asking Akira to bring snacks for the trip? They could be having lunch right now.

Speak of the devil, a grey eye fluttered open for a second, to stare at his hazy surroundings, the light drawing sharp shapes as it filtered through the train windows. They were close already, only an hour to go, which meant there was enough time to resume a dream he was having where somehow everyone had managed to stay in Tokyo and everything had stayed the same, but Morgana’s paw came against his cheek, slapping it with as much force as a hungry cat could, oh no excuse him, a ravenous cat, of course. He kept trying to get Akira’s attention, so of course he closed his eyes again and let out obviously fake snores.

“Akira!” Morgana gasped, a betrayed look in his face when the brunet didn’t answer and just let out another snore.

“He’s unavailable, leave your message after the beep.” Akira answered, a playful smirk grazing his features, eyes still closed.

As Morgana scoffed and tried to get him to listen to just how _hungry_ and _desperate_ he was for a _single crumb of high quality fatty tuna_ , Akira’s smirk turned into an earnest smile, opening both eyes and giving him a soft, loving look as the cat began rambling and threatening that _there better be good quality sushi in Inaba_. He was more than glad for the company. 

  
  
  


The small town was just as boring as he remembered it, and as Akira hopped off the train he wondered if anything had changed, or if at least the ground of the station no longer made the ‘clunk!’ noise when one would jump off the train, only to be immediately unimpressed when it indeed made the expected noise.

Maybe years ago Akira would’ve looked around, smiled and taken a deep breath, twirling around excitedly because he was _home_ , his parents trailing behind while talking amongst themselves, the little boy already thinking about his grade school friends and how impressed they would be when they knew he had been at the _beach_ with his parents, and of course he had brought them a few seashells, the prettiest he could find!

Now, the air felt pretty stale and oppressive. The station looked as small and dirty as usual, the people plain and boring, there were no parents waiting patiently and there was nobody to bring souvenirs to. So he walked, mouth drawn in a thin line, looking around for any sign of change, ignoring the way dust was already clinging to his clothes, washing away the smell of a metropolis.

  
  


Well, at least it wasn’t raining.

  
  
  


He had to admit that for a few seconds he had forgotten about Morgana even being there, because the way his core felt like running back to the city had overpowered him, but his meowing had made him snap back to reality, grey meeting concerned blue. He let out a weak laugh, shaking his head.

“It’s been a while.” The cat nodded, still looking as concerned as he could. Together they made the walk towards a house that wasn’t a home, and most likely would be empty for a long while. As they passed by the school Akira used to go to, he lowered his head.

Unlike back in Shujin, these people had known him his whole life, they had known all his weird phases and quirks, his most insufferable and his best, that he was a good student and didn’t have many friends since the moment he turned twelve, that he used to have a crush on the daughter of a local florist but she laughed on his face the moment he confessed, that he glanced a bit too long at the boy who sat next to him in class and that made him weird, that he didn’t talk that much and that his parents preferred it that way, that he had committed a crime against someone very important, and no matter how much he protested, he had ruined not only his reputation, but of the name Kurusu and of the Inaba community. Hadn’t Inaba had enough with the murder cases in the past? Now a local kid had to assault a politician? How dare he. How dare Akira interfere with matters that didn’t concern him. What a shame, he was such a promising kid. How come the Kurusus didn’t raise him better? How shameful.

It always went back to shame. No matter how long it had been, the community would remember him as the kid who had commited the crime of caring. At least in Tokyo, even as a wanted Phantom Thief, he could blend in the shadows, become anyone, put on as many masks as he wanted. Tokyo didn’t care about a random kid with a cat in between the seas of people living their own unique, vibrant lives, and Akira loved the way the shadows shielded him.

Now there was a bit too much light shining over his mistakes for his liking. 

  
  
  
  


As expected, the house was empty. 

There was a note on the living room table, which only said “will be back at eight.”, and Akira let out a relieved sigh. He put the bag containing Morgana on the green old couch and let him out, said cat immediately moving to inspect the place. “It’s big!” he called out from the hallway, as Akira moved to the kitchen to see if there was anything he could make them both for lunch. Oh, there was rice, and a can of tuna. Two eggs. Chives. A lot of tea, some instant coffee (oh, he was going to miss making coffee. Maybe he could get a job as a barista? If someone accepted him, that is.), soy sauce. There really wasn’t that much to do anything creative. Plain old “rice with whatever” it would be, then. He sighed, reminding himself to do grocery shopping the following day, and turned to cook something, separating a part of the tuna for Morgana, leaving some for himself.

While he busied himself with the rice cooker, his phone was blowing up with messages of people demanding to know if he had arrived safely- oh, yeah. Some people did care about him.

**13:45**

**[Gamer rights]:** u alive man

 **[Gamer rights]:** ?????????????????

**13:55**

**[Gamer rights]:** bitch dont u ignore me i can see ur in inaba

**14:15**

**[Gamer rights]:** akira kurusu i swear if you got mugged

 **[Gamer rights]:** ill go there and murder a bitch for u

 **[Gamer rights]:** i'll send em the bee movie script over and over till their phone explodes or some shit

 **[Gamer rights]:** akiraaaaaaaaa

**14:35**

**[Smooth criminal]:** Hey! I’m okay, busy feeding a ravenous creature like the kind hearted soul I am. -w-

 **[Smooth criminal]:** Seems like you already miss me.

 **[Gamer rights]:** ofc bro

 **[Gamer rights]:** oh btw i f

 **[Smooth criminal]:** Hm?

 **[Gamer rights]:** nvm bro don't worry bout it

 **[Gamer rights]:** anyways hows the middle of nowhere doin 

  
  
  


**14:15**

**[Cougar]:** Akira!!!

 **[Cougar]:** Did you get there safely???

**14:35**

**[Smooth criminal]:** Hi Ann! Yeah I made it here safe and sound. -w-

 **[Smooth criminal]:** Morgana says hi Lady Ann btw.

 **[Cougar]:** Hi Morgana!!! I miss you both already so much!!

 **[Smooth criminal]:** We miss you too!

  
  
  


**14:20**

**[Forreal]:** yo bro! you sace????

 **[Forreal]:** *safe

**14:36**

**[Smooth criminal]:** Yeah I’m sace.

 **[Forreal]:** screw you

 **[Forreal]:** eff, i miss you already goddamnit

 **[Smooth criminal]:** One day I’ll get you to say fuck.

 **[Forreal]:** NEVER.

 **[Smooth criminal]:** You’ll slip up at some point.

 **[Forreal]:** aki i promised my mom!

 **[Smooth criminal]:** She won’t hear. <3

  
  
  


**-20 New messages-**

  
  


Akira couldn’t help the smile on his face. He still had his group with him despite everything that had happened, Haru had even sent him a picture of his favorite flowers from her garden to cheer him up, and with Morgana’s comments by his side, despite the dark empty house, for once he felt in good company.

* * *

  
  


It shouldn’t be raining.

His shoes were already flooded with water, his hair was a mess, the wind was everywhere, and he just wanted to sleep. Wiping a hand over his face, he sighed and dragged himself the rest of the way to the bar, at least there he wouldn’t be so cold. He had a simple task: talk to someone, get what he needed, leave. 

The neon light of the entrance shone over his wet yellow beanie. Trying to keep the scowl off his face, he scanned around for who he was looking for while walking in. The dark bodies nursing their own drinks blended together with the loud chatter and background music, the few lights there were only useful to barely show where the drinks were, and it made the task of searching for his contact a lot harder.

He sat on one of the seats and waited, but not for too long, till a glass was put in front of his face. The man taking a seat next to him didn’t spare any greeting, just went straight to business. “Did you find anything?” 

He refused to take a single sip of the drink. “He used to frequent Kichijoji, and was seen a couple of times at a jazz club there. Went to a few stores around the area, despite not actually living there. Nobody who knows him has seen him in months, but I have been told he had a friend who went everywhere with him before, whom I have yet to locate.” He said calmly, glancing at the man next to him but refusing to fully face him, as that meant having to be under constant scrutiny from a face that honestly, kind of creeped him out. The man in question nodded as he processed the information he had been given. “Ask around for that friend. He has no immediate family and nowhere to go, so he can’t be very far. His phone hasn’t been active since a month ago, but it doesn’t show as destroyed. Either way, we have a list of a few places he could possibly go to in time of crisis, so I’ll need you to check those out. I’ll text you a list later.” A cold handle was put on his hand as the man spoke, and the weight of a briefcase pulled his arm. “Here you go. Do what you have to do, and don’t show off.” He warned, as he casually slipped off his seat and left, not even muttering a goodbye.

The case felt heavy on his lap, the anxiety of what he had to do with the contents inside weighing on his mind. “ _It’s just a highschool kid. How hard can it be?_ ” he repeated inside his head as he raised his hand to get a drink he could actually trust. Killer or not, kids were usually easy to find and easy to handle, and while somewhere inside his head his morals were screaming in despair, it was just another job he had to do. He had kids to take care of, kids without blood in their hands who could be actual productive members of society.

* * *

  
  


Of course it was raining.

  
  


The sound the rain made over the umbrella he had bought at the station felt deafening, and his head felt a little too light, but his grip over the blue bouquet kept him grounded as he walked past aisles and aisles of stone monuments and too green grass. The mud his pants caught made the grey even dirtier, and Goro asked himself, yet again, why he thought it to be a good idea to be here.

As he stood in front of the grave, he fought back a small whimper. This was useless after all, his mother had died years ago, this was only a performance to make his pathetic chest stop hammering, and the tears were fake in case someone passed him by and tried to recognize him, of course.

The more red eyes studied it, the more flaws he found. The grave was dirty. The kanji was sloppily engraved. The stone was chipped in a few places. He came closer, awkwardly shuffling to see it better. **“Akechi Yua, 1975-2009”**

“Hello.” 

The moment he said that, he died a little inside. He felt awkward, trying to talk to someone that obviously wasn’t there. So he didn’t continue. Instead, he simply moved over to the tomb, and sat next to it, despite the cold water accumulating under him. He kept the bouquet close to his chest, and the umbrella resting over one of his shoulders, trying to balance it so his arm didn’t hurt from holding it up the whole time. He glanced around, at the grey sky, at the few mourners in other places of the cemetery, hearing their crying and screaming, yet most of what Goro felt was.. calm. It was as if he was repaying a debt he had left there so long ago, and he hated unpaid debts.

For a moment his mind went back to Akira, and he wondered if he would be in debt his entire life, for it was him the one he had wished back to life, and in a strange miracle only the precious golden child of the universe could conjure, the wish had stuck. It made him angry, and he scoffed lightly. He had been a fighter, a monster, a creature who had risen from the ashes and made his way through the many adversities thrown at him, _yet trash, absolute trash,_ was God’s favorite, of course he was. Of course he was nothing but scum, a reject, a trial from God before he sent his actual main player-

  
  


Touching the grave grounded him.

He let out a silent laugh, lips curving in a mocking semblance of a smile, and put the flowers over the stone, taking a moment to caress the stone with scarred fingers.

“I guess you and I have always been the broken ones.” He whispered to himself, despite the laugh in his head saying how ridiculous he was being to any prying eyes.

He ended up staying there for a couple of hours, fully reclining against the grave in the rain, and even after it ended and the sky still remained grey, he stayed, clung to a moment he wasn’t sure if he could ever come back to again. 

  
  
  
  


It was getting late, and Goro began thinking about his options. He could ride the train back to his apartment, or rather former. He could go there and find himself ambushed by Shido’s old associates. Everyone knew where he lived, it was not much of a secret, and if they asked enough questions, they could easily be waiting. Paranoia set deep in his bones.

He had to keep going.

But where? What was there to do? He turned to glance at the name he had glanced at most of the afternoon, as if the stone could give him answers.

  
  


And it did, actually. Not too far from the cemetery was a place he had gotten to know pretty well in his childhood, a place his mother took him when they needed to hide, when the pain from her work became unbearable. There she was happier, she smiled at him, hugged him closer, and he could run around and know he was going to be okay, the staff loved seeing him and would coo over “how big he had gotten!”, pinching his cheek and giving him sweets while his mother had a few moments of peace of mind. It brought good memories, and in his despair Goro found himself needing that.

So he rose up, and carrying the same big backpack and the umbrella, but leaving the flowers behind, he was determined to go when he remembered.. he didn’t remember where it exactly was. He did remember the name clearly, however, so maybe he could wander around till he found it, as he was not by any means going to ask around, but it was getting darker and colder every second and his head already felt a little fuzzy from the lack of proper sleep thanks to his paranoia. At least there, he could be safe.

So he bit the bullet, taking out from his pocket the phone that had remained dead ever since he woke up from Maruki’s nightmare. He hadn’t had time to buy a burner. 

But this was all paranoia, wasn’t it? It’s not like he was certain anyone was looking for him. In the experience he had with finding criminals from the few cases he got on his desk that weren’t committed by himself, he knew a phone could be tracked, but that was if anyone was truly even tracking him. And besides, a Google search would be quick and easier than sleeping on top of a grave. 

He booted the phone up, and quickly wasted no time making the search, not searching for the exact name but just the map, looking around till he saw the familiar building, and once he had memorized the street names, he shut the phone down, anxiety sending a chill down his spine as he tried to assure himself it was going to be alright, he had no evidence to back the claim he was followed, and besides he had been just a reckless puppet, nobody would notice him gone, in many ways. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean akechi is being paranoid amiright


	4. chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goro dyes his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! So, this chapter was actually double the size, but I decided to split it in two after I decided to place certain scenes on the next chapter! Hope the pacing isn't too slow.

The way the school seemed to loom menacingly over him was unnerving, and Akira kept adjusting his gloves over and over instead of entering it’s grounds. If anyone stared at him past the scoffing glances already thrown his way when people realized that the new guy was actually  _ just Kurusu _ , they would have noticed the mismatched gloves he kept fiddling with, one a lustrous black only worn around the knuckles, made out of actual leather, the other a very dark crimson, almost black, yet the light gave away it’s actual shade and the fact it wasn’t real leather. 

He could do this. 

Akira took the first few steps inside, only to bump against a short girl, who had started to apologize, until she saw  _ who _ had bumped into her and her face morphed into one of uncomfortable disgust, turning around and rushing inside the building, dusting off the sleeves of her blazer, as if she had come in contact with the worst kind of trash.

He couldn’t do this.

A shiver ran down his spine, he shook his head to clear the feeling it had left on his body, and he forced himself inside as quickly as it was acceptable (he could already hear the voices if he dared run, _ shame on Kurusu, embarrassing himself and his whole family on his first day of school, shame on him, shame- _ ), avoiding bumping into anyone else, avoiding the way seemingly everyone turned away from him the moment they saw him (at least in Shujin they would stare warily and whisper, he was intimidating, a force to be reckoned with, but here? here he was shameful Kurusu, the impulsive reject who dared return, from a family just as unimpressive as his criminal record). But hey, at least he had made it, hadn’t he? There he was, inside, all he had to do was go straight to his classroom. He began fiddling even harder, bare grey eyes keeping themselves firm on the numbers of each room, the leather keeping his breath steady as he walked. 

He wondered what Akechi would’ve done in a situation like this, where the hatred directed at him wasn’t out of fear of the unknown, but of  _ disgust _ . He had been in a room full of kids who hated him, hadn’t he? ( _ sometimes he’d think about that evening Goro told him about his past, how intimate everything had felt, the moment they dared sit next to each other and just.. chat. He could’ve sworn he saw Akechi relax, even if it was for a moment, after telling Akira. _ ) he had been in a city that hated him, and yet he kept. Going, alone, with a father who was a piece of shit, with tabloids talking shit left and right, shaming him. He kept going. 

( _ And Akira failed him, left him alone after promising he wouldn’t, didn’t insist enough, didn’t grab Goro and carried him away from that boiler room, didn’t tell him anything the moment he had a second chance to do so, didn’t hold him when he looked on the verge of a breakdown. He had been careless, too focused on the possibility that he was going to be okay to consider that maybe, just maybe, Maruki had told the truth, and outside of his world, Goro was gone. _ )

Ah, there was his classroom. Being back as a third year felt strange, but it gave him enough hope knowing it would only be a year. Just a year, and he would be free. That made his spirits go back up, even a little bit, enough to pick a desk and unceremoniously flop on it, gently placing the bag he had carried with him the whole way on the floor, a bag with a suspiciously ripped part, enough for something inside to get some air. The rules were different here, and he could no longer keep a furry companion directly under his desk because unlike the amazing guy that sat behind him his whole year in Shujin who hadn’t ratted him out even once, in Inaba everyone would take the chance to humiliate him even further. So, this had been the compromise they had reached to. Morgana really didn’t want to stay with Akira’s parents, who had yet to know he existed, and Akira didn’t want to be completely alone with his thoughts, so the bag company would have to do till lunch, where he would sneak somewhere and let Morgana stretch his legs. Afterwards, back in the bag it would be, until Akira could successfully sneak back in his room (if his parents were home, otherwise he would simply saunter in) and finally let Morgana move around freely. It wasn’t the best arrangement, it implied Morgana would have to be particularly quiet the nights his parents were home, and they would have to find places to walk around in where there was nobody who would judgingly watch him and parrot back to his parents how their disgrace of a son had a cat now, apparently. But it was something, and they were still together, Akira knew they both needed it, and that sentiment had made itself more than clear the moment his parents decided to show up the night before. 

They clearly weren’t happy with Akira being back, and it showed in the silences between passed plates, devoid of questions about the son who had left for a whole ass year to live in Tokyo and never called. 

“Your uniform. It’s on the couch.” His mother said, it was the only thing she said, as if he had never left Inaba, or as if Akira’s rich inner life was worth absolutely nothing. She hadn't even spared a glance at Akira. He nodded with a grunt of “Thanks”, and went back to eating the takeout they had gotten, trying to mask the flavor of grief coating the back of his throat. 

Tonight had been the same, except there was no uniform comment, not even a glance between his own parents, as if they not only felt that way about Akira, but also about themselves. He wondered how his family would be like if his parents believed in the miracle of this thing called a _divorce_ , sometimes. He wondered if it was him being there what provoked his parents to look at each other with that level of disdain. After dinner, he wordlessly pet Morgana for hours, the cat purring as soft as he possibly could over his chest, trying to alleviate Akira’s pain. His phone lit up after two hours of Morgana petting and silent crying without any tears, and he finally moved enough to find out who it could be. 

**Incoming Call - [Forreal]**

**-Swipe right to accept-**

“Hey.” He mumbled.

“Yoo, Akira!” Ryuji’s loud, beautiful voice rang against his ear, and Akira had never felt happier about possibly ending up without an eardrum. 

“You have separation anxiety already?” He smiled when Morgana rolled his eyes at the corny joke.

“Look, beef bowls aren’t the same without you, man! Yusuke kept going on about how your,” He put on an accent resembling Yusuke’s voice, “ _ Absence throws off the aesthetic composition of our whole friend group _ , or some shit.” He laughed, and Akira found himself chuckling along.

They ended up talking for a lot longer than expected. Ryuji told him all about his move, how his Ma and him were looking to close the deal on a place that would be close enough to his new school, which for now he had to take three trains to get to, but he expressed it was worth it, and besides, it wouldn’t be for long. He took a moment to complain about the uniform, and how bland it was compared to the one Shujin had, and that it apparently had more restrictions about being modified. As Ryuji went on, Akira sometimes chimed in, but otherwise he let the blonde talk, a dopey little smile on his face. When it got to his turn to share his day, Akira simply stayed silent for a few moments, which prompted Ryuji to stay silent as well. “..Aki?”

“You know I love you a lot, right?”

“Uh-- Yeah dude of course! I love you too bro, you’re my best friend! ...Why?”

“Nothing- I. Needed to hear it.”

“You’re the best bro ever, Aki. I’d chill in a hot tub with you, four feet apart.”

Akira gasped. “You  _ harlot _ .” Ryuji let out a loud snort.

“For real, Akira. Are-are you okay? Don’t ask shit with that creepy tone, you make me worry.”

He hesitated.

“Yeah! Yeah. Thanks for worrying.”

“I’m here for you, dude.”

His smile only got a little wider, and he brought up an arm to rub his eyes. “I know.”

He went on a ramble even longer than Ryuji’s after that.

* * *

It had been a surprise for Chiyo when the bells in the front gently chimed and a young man walked in. It was late, the rain had subsided, but she wasn’t expecting anyone, even less the pleasant figure that greeted her, so all she could do for a few seconds was blink owlishly. Walking over the same worn boards a gorgeous woman once had was someone who she sure was her son, staring around with sharp red eyes at his surroundings, making a mental file of everything he noticed, yet refusing to touch anything nearby. His back was impossibly straight and his walk with purpose, despite the baggy rags he was dressed in and the mud carried with every step. 

Her mind screamed with worry when she truly noticed the clothing, yet tried to remain composed, she knew outwardly worrying for someone could sometimes have the opposite effect to reassurance, and if this was Yua’s son, that would be the case. Instead, her face contorted into a gentle smile, greeting him with her soft voice, not voicing the guess in her mind of who the newcomer was.

However-

The moment he opened his mouth, it was as clear as day it was Yua’s son. An Akechi, maybe the last of this specific kind.

Akechi, looking a lot less like the gentle prince in TV and more like the unruly kid who used to run all over the establishment, except he now carried a shadow wherever he went, the weight of having seen too much, lived too much for his age. She wondered just how badly he had been treated by those people, if he was here not as a nostalgia trip, but as a way to hide.

It was the same weight Yua carried in her final two visits to the establishment. 

Despite the warm smiles to her son, she looked haunted, her visage pale and fragile, her body a little thinner than it should have been. She kept her head high, didn’t shed a single tear in presence of others, kept her hands in her lap, her eyes sharp and studious, but the weight was there, something she would never voice to Chiyo, always to the tone of “Oh, it’s just the stress, Nakamura-san!” with a tone that attempted to be carefree, yet fell flat the moment her eyes looked anywhere else. In her last visit, Chiyo attempted to tell her there were other options if she needed them, that she didn’t need to go back there again, but she refused, telling her she “had things to do, sadly.”

Even in a place of refuge, Yua barely put down her walls. They were too tall, too many, and no matter how others tried to help her, she didn’t take the offered hand. It was as if she distrusted the world, if something was hunting her and all she could do was hide till she was inevitably found. 

Now, her son carried the same expression. 

The kid, _ Goro _ , she remembered, walked up to her and let himself be known. It was a slight shift in the air, the way his hands moved to uncross and show himself as approachable, as someone Chiyo could talk to. She didn’t hesitate to take the opportunity. “Akechi-kun.” She breathed out, smile still in place, composed, calm, as if there was no heavy darkness on Akechi’s shoulders and no crushing guilt on hers. 

His head cocked slightly, giving her a soft smile, his eyes no less tense than before, but letting his shoulders fall slightly, as if he was pretending to be comfortable for her own comfort. 

“Nakamura-san.” He said, in a way more composed way than he actually felt.

Inside, Goro was a mess. A mixture of wariness that permeated all his movements, a curiosity that urged his eyes to keep frantically  _ looking _ , and a familiarity he didn’t know he could be capable of finding anymore, all in the shape of a woman who had seen his mother in her last days, and despite of that, she kept allowing her in. A debt his mother never repaid. He let out a controlled exhale, eyes darting from her grey hair, short and curly over her head, her soft dark cheeks, her wide black eyes, to the blacks and whites of her uniform, and the way her wrinkled hands fiddled with each other.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it!” He chirped with a personality he knew he didn’t need to keep, a speech pattern he loathed to use, but, in seconds, it had permeated every cell in his body, coated his words with a sugary sludge that he couldn’t seem to shake off. Nobody liked a mean man, much less a ruthless beast. So he swallowed the sugar permeating his throat, and kept going, moving his sight from the polished wood floor, to the bamboo plants, to the spotless desk. The wom- _ Nakamura-san _ , got closer, to look at him better, but, on reflex, Goro quickly took a step back, keeping the cold distance between them.

“It has.” Her soft smile widened into a knowing one, wise onyx staring at broken rust. 

  
  
  


The arrangement had been simple, once Goro explained his situation in the least detailed way he could afford to. He was alone, on the run from an evil he wasn’t sure it even existed (yet to her he proposed it as a real threat, leaving as much detail for her mind to be alarmed, yet not enough for her to be scandalized, and even less details about what was  _ actually _ going on. He was a minor celebrity, of course he could get aggressive people after him), and he couldn’t be seen, nor known to others he had ever been there. Nakamura-san listened patiently, nodding her head along with the same soft smile, despite her eyes clouding with more and more worry as he kept going.

“It would be just for a month, Nakamura-san. Until I can find somewhere to move away from the general Tokyo area, for my own personal safety.” He looked down, fixing his eyes on their feet. “You can stay as much as you need to, Akechi-kun! There’s no need for you to run away so fast, you can take your time with finding a place to settle, and I’m here if you need help with anything.” She urged him with her words, but didn’t make a move to touch him. He nodded, still not looking. “From the bottom of my heart, thank you.” He gave her a polite bow. “But I feel the need to repay you somehow. I can’t take from you, and this place, without doing anything to pay my debt. How much would I be owing you for a month keeping my existence under wraps?”

She was staring at him with a sorrow that seemed impossible to be thrown his way by someone he ultimately didn’t really know, the moment he glanced at her face again.

“If you feel like repaying me, as you put it, then you could do some cleaning tasks. Think of it as the payment for your stay. Indefinite stay.” He laughed in disbelief, and for a moment he wondered if the woman had a brain, if she hadn’t noticed that what he was asking for outed him as a criminal. But her eyes, fixed on him, showed she knew much more she’d ever let on. Was it pity, then? He hated pity. 

But for the moment he needed it. 

  
  
  


Engulfed in darkness, Goro was suffocating. He had been given a bed in one of the storage rooms, which had been emptied just the day before. The place was perfectly clean, to the point he would've mistaken it for a normal room if it wasn't for the colder atmosphere and the view to the least (in his opinion) flattering part of the backyard, where the wooden pillars of the structure got in front of anything else. He had been given a bed and the softest sheets he had experienced in a while, yet. His mind kept racing, going through scenario after scenario, from being left alone, so alone that he'd rot and die by himself in an asylum with nobody to visit his unlovable self, to being followed so much nowhere was safe, and perhaps the shadows behind the nearby potted plant were actually a goon a little too well hidden. And even when a well awaited rest came to him, he felt as if he was falling inside something he wasn’t very sure he would get out of. 

* * *

  
  


The waves crashed against dark rock underneath his feet, slow and steady, lilac tranquility like the sky above. He stood against that railing for who knows how long, staring. It was silent, yet he didn't feel the need to fill it with thought, the waves talked enough.

The sweet mumble of "Honey?" made its way in between the calls of the lilac sea, and suddenly everything felt a lot sharper, the way everything focused so suddenly giving his head a light ache. He turned around, to find a head of black hair and a patient smile before him. Twilight seemed to suit him, he observed, in the way shadows softened around his figure, the way his eyes seemed bright nonetheless, and how that gave him such an ethereal quality he wanted to stare at those silver pools forever and ask them why they kept looking in his direction with so much warmth. 

"They were out of pumpkin bread." And before he could ask  _ huh? Why are you telling me that as if this wasn't the first time I've seen your face in a long time, why are you wasting time and money in novelty food when sustenance and mass appeal is all that matters, why are you talking to me as if I was the one that came up with the idea and therefore should be disappointed-  _ He was interrupted by that angelic voice once more, train of thought breaking completely just to savor the  _ closeness  _ captured in simple sentences sputtering out of velvety pink lips, as if this was a new normality he hadn't been aware of till now. "A shame, I really wanted to try the thing you kept rambling to me about last week." A subtle shrug.

".. You have an excuse to come more often, then." He heard himself say in a voice deeper than his own, relaxed, yet unmistakably his. He was confused, he couldn't seem to remember  _ ever _ talking to him about this supposed interest on pumpkin bread of his. He hadn't even tried the simply ugly thing, it had never interested him in terms of dessert, going instead for photogenic mountains of pancakes (until they got completely ruined for him) and delicately decorated cakes.

The distance between them folded into nothing as hands sneaked around his waist, a face he had only held this close in times of danger glancing at him placidly, soft little smile on his lips. 

“Do I need one?” The smile stretched a little wider, and inside his head Goro kept asking himself why he couldn’t take his eyes off of them. As if the other could read his mind, he got even closer, breaths intertwining, closer, the hands on his waist pulling him to crash against his torso, so they could be even closer, so Goro could feel the warmth irradiating from his body, the weight of teasingly pressing fingers, the appreciative rumble when he let out a soft gasp-  _ and the sharp pain when what pressed against him turned to pierce his flesh.  _

The world stilled and his eyes shot open in pained surprise, only to stare back at sharp yellow and pinprick pupils.  _ What _ . His breath picked up, and he struggled against the grip, which only got tighter, drawing blood along with them as they buried themselves deeper.  _ What the fuck.  _ He struggled once more, his hands moving to grab inhumnaly hard ones and  _ pull _ , pull out, move away from the pain and the sharp stare of a thing that wouldn’t stop smiling with a smile that didn’t belong to him and  _ oh no his face, what happened to his face _ \- it began to contort into a sharper and sharper grin as the talons grew the more Goro struggled, amused at his loud screeches of “Get the fuck away from me!”, revealing more and more teeth that no human could possibly possess. The pain got sharper, turning into a ringing in his ears the moment the creature decided to make it even worse by  _ speaking _ , each word enunciated by the black goo that emanated from the corners of his lips. 

“Do you dream about making out with the people you’ve killed often?” It said, tone remarkably casual, tilting his head slightly and letting the goo slowly drip down as Goro began to pant from the way his senses were screaming at him to get away from the pain. Its eyes flickered down to his open mouth, and the smile only got more wicked. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised, honestly, you aren’t the first psycho who does.” 

Goro tried to reply, to say anything that would get him out from the searing pain of being stabbed by the sharp nails on his sides, but his efforts were quickly silenced by a mouth slamming against his own, and the horrid sensation of a thick paste flooding his tongue. It felt as if he was swallowing molten copper, the fluid coating his senses as more and more was transferred from the creature to him, yet he refused to swallow, the liquid instead slipping in between the cracks of their connected lips and falling down Goro’s face and neck, burning anything it touched. He felt as if he was going to pass out, becoming lax against the creature still holding him by his insides, but he was suddenly unceremoniously thrown out and away from it, blood spilling out as Goro collapsed on the ground, coughing. 

“Disgusting.” It scoffed, face scrunched up in exaggerated disgust, yellow eyes cold and accusing being the last thing he stared at as Goro’s world went dark.

* * *

  
  


He woke up to the sound of windchimes and rushing water.

Winter light shone through the wooden pillars, casting vertical shapes over Goro’s face as he tried to regain his breath, clutching his chest as he stared aggressively at the ceiling. Cold air seeped under the door, harshly contrasting his feverish skin, damp sweat turning into small ice droplets the more he stayed still. 

_ A dream. It was just a dream. I can’t be this fucking weak, c’mon. _

He had to move, to do something, and ignore the heaviness in his heart when he realised these past few days he hadn’t felt Loki’s presence inside of him anymore. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Mopping the floor, Goro just now found out, reduced the itch. 

It kept him busy in it’s repetitiveness, and it was a perfect excuse to keep wearing gloves without having to go through the catalogue inside his mind of excuses as to why, oh why, people weren’t allowed to see his hands. He was too tired for that, and that lately worsened the itching of his scarred hands to tear through  _ something _ ,  _ anything _ that he could destroy, the need to express,  _ loudly _ , that this was meaningless, going on was senseless, and that all his reason for living was now rotting in a cell not by his own hand, but by the hand of those who had fulfilled their promise. It was over, the story had ended, culminated in a mockery of itself where he breathed again and teamed up with the man who, for his own good, should hate him. An epilogue of sorts, a thing to dangle over Akira’s head (the dream flashed in his mind and Goro had to stop himself from breaking the mop’s handle), which he would get over, and would finally let go of Goro’s memory so he would go back to the Sea of Souls, back to being dead once more. He wanted to scream.

Instead, he aggressively kept mopping. 

He passed by a mirror when entering the changing rooms near the bath, and his eyes flickered from the mundane grey shirt and pants of the same shade, to green apron and teal gloves, to his caramel hair. 

Ah, he would have to fix that. 

For a moment he sickly wondered if copper would suit him.

  
  
  
  
  


Turns out there was only brown left at the little drugstore he went to, so that’s what he settled for, the dark joke would have to wait for later. He wasn’t going to risk his whole life for a joke only he would get, and wasn’t even funny. It just felt like he had to mock it, however, because the implications the dream otherwise had, and the lack of his persona screaming at him (he knew the metaverse was gone, but so was he, and here he was, and the first day he could’ve sworn he still heard Loki), made a recipe for a breakdown that would happen inside a bigger breakdown he was currently having, and he didn’t have time for new breakdowns.

So, dark brown it would be. 

In a small service bathroom with the help of dextrous old hands, a foul scented mixture sat on his hair. He had asked for help only after making a mess by himself, as his hair’s whole life had passed in between being brushed by Goro’s mother (the one with the same hair as him, except hers shone so bright it sometimes looked like a halo around her beautiful face), then being shaved off at the institution (It was too troublesome, it tangled too easily and Goro cried too hard when one of the workers tried to do something with it. Besides, that way it was harder for the other kids to pull on.), being handled by hairstylists day and night, and finally being maintained perfectly on place thanks to Maruki’s appreciation of the “aesthetics”, no matter how hard he pulled.

So, Goro had never gotten to experiment with his hair. 

The process made him shake and jerk unnaturally in humiliation and at the unfamiliarity of her touch, yet Nakamura-san didn’t mutter a single comment the whole time, instead offering him reassuring smiles the few times he would glance at her. When it was ready, he dared to finally glance at it, and his face fell. He didn’t recognize himself for a few seconds, grimacing at the thought of keeping it like that for who knows how long. 

Yet, there was something freeing in that unfamiliarity. He scowled at the mirror, bared his teeth. Nakamura-san laughed at that, and mimicked the scowl dramatically.

He gave the mirror a little crooked smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What was that weird ass dream am i right  
> Next Chapter: Futaba is back! A few more surprises, and a lot more Inaba.


	5. chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit hits the fan.
> 
> Longest chapter so far.  
> Two new secondary relationships have been added.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MONSTER CHAPTER MONSTER CHAPTER MONSTER CHAPTER
> 
> HI, THIS THING IS HUGE.   
> Will the next one be as big?  
> who the hell knows.
> 
> Featuring cameos. Many cameos.

The first therapy session was silent.

He had been asked to go, so many times by not only Nakamura-san, but by the other workers of the facility as well in the span of those damned two weeks. They repeated over and over that they could help him, to the point he once lashed out at them, showing yet another crack under the facade, saying that he was fine the way he was, and that he was just there because he needed someplace to sleep. His anger, hot and consuming and destructive to anything that dared to come close to him in those moments, it surprised him at the same time it didn’t. He needed help. He hated it, hated that he needed a way to stop exploding and burning down anything that was remotely nice to him, but he had shouted at the last pieces of his mother that still existed in this world, and that meant he needed help. So he reluctantly dragged himself to the office, attempting to ignore the pride in Chiyo’s eyes when he saw him going through that door. This was useless. 

  
  
  
  


It turns out, he  _ couldn’t  _ say anything the whole hour. 

  
  


He thought he would bend over and vent it all out, like back in the boiler room, where the tragic backstory spilled out of his guts dramatically. Or perhaps it would be like back in his last few days at the false reality, where his need to break free from the chains tying him down gave birth to a third persona, (the being was slightly unstable, however, and Loki's voice could be heard at times in his final moments, which made Goro wonder if he could do even a single persona fusion right,) yet nothing happened. 

The therapist watched, a calm, neutral look on their face as the clock ticked away.

He tried to say something, but all that came out were noises where he wanted to say words, choking with the sugary sludge of politeness that fought to keep the anger inside of him, in case that if it spilled out, Goro would just be empty.

He refused to stare back at their face. 

  
  
  
  
  


By the fourth therapy session, Goro finally said something. It began with a rant about one of the women in the shelter, how she always seemed to be where he was going to clean next, and how bothersome that was. The therapist listened to him, nodding along to his words, and trying to direct them back at himself, which somehow ended in a rant about how Goro felt he was a waste of space and would be better dead. That way he could give peace to the people he had harmed. His words were sharp, razor blades landing over anything they could, as his voice raised in volume, turned into a growl, and his back dared to arch forward slightly, losing that cold composure on his body that he had kept all this time. 

Oh, he had talked too much.

Instead of surprise, or disgust, Goro found himself staring at a soft smile. An urge told him to rip it off, but he just sank back in his chair, defeated. 

  
  
  


The days passed by quicker than he expected, and nobody had seemed to notice Goro’s presence in the center. 

People came and went, sometimes only once, other times for days, sometimes they stayed there, just like Goro did. He allowed himself to wander around a little more as time went on, finding a strange sort of joy in making things clean. It felt like he was doing something, no matter how small, to erase the griminess that covered the world. That he had helped cover with. 

He hadn’t been a clean person before, his apartment had been a mess at times, covered in takeout, dust and grime, but now there seemed to be a purpose in the way grey would turn to white, bronze would get back it’s shine, and windows could be seen through once more. He talked a little more in therapy, his assigned therapist remaining patient with him ( _of_ _course_ , he told himself, _that’s literally their whole job,_ ) as he went through seemingly nonsensical rants about anything he could think of at the time, only at times dipping back into the dark abyss that were the waters of his childhood. He had yet to cry, however, keeping himself composed each and every time after that first breakdown, ignoring the trembles in his voice when the therapist gently asked him about a mother who had died too young. Once he was out of that hellish hour that he had to go to three times a week, he would go to have tea with Nakamura-san, _Chiyo_ , who smiled at him with a kindness he didn’t feel worthy of. He had to look away from her at times, because the light from the upcoming spring made her head look as if she had a halo, just like a mother he once knew, one he had been "suggested" ( _forced_ ) ( _you could've just remained silent and the therapist wouldn't_ _have said jack shit, nobody forced you to do anything_ ) to talk about, and that made his insides hurt a little. He had yet to smile back at her since he lashed out, and he kept checking the cup over and over for a salty flavor, or a rough texture. It had become a habit, but at least he accepted the cup of tea.

From then on,

Things seemed to be looking up.

He had a few new habits, aside from cleaning. 

He took naps, which he truly hadn’t before.

He kept his hair tied up.

He began to read a little more often, thanks to now having more free time. Chiyo-san had even lent him a few books, the last one being a thick red tome called “Burning roses”.

A murder mystery, apparently.

The irony of a hitman and detective reading a murder mystery didn’t evade him, and he often times chuckled to himself when picking the book up.

He felt.. lighter.

At one point he even found himself mumbling along to a song in Chiyo-san's radio as he mopped, moving his hips slightly along the beat. It wasn't dancing, he  _ didn't dance _ , his pacing was terrible after all (even if sometimes he did dream about dancing in a red and white outfit, and he'd wake up wondering what the hell was up with that-), and his movements were sloppy, but. He found himself not caring. Nobody was out with a camera, staring hungrily for the first sign of failure so he could be eaten up, Chiyo-san was busy with her own activities, and the residents weren't around yet. 

He could move around if he wanted to. 

And so he did, cleaning along to the rhythm, feet dragging over the laminated wood in erratic patterns that almost resembled steps, head subtly bobbing along. The song was bubbly and light, something he wouldn't have normally chosen, Risette's cheerful voice talking about that man she was over with, and how she had overcome the pain of the breakup, so now she could party. 

It was.. a pretty stupid song.

Shame seemed to slowly creep up his back the more he moved, he felt like a stereotype, and he ended up stopping after just a few steps, but.

He had danced along to a song on the radio.

He had been a teenager for a few seconds, and instead of disgusted, he found himself feeling a little giddy.

Midday caught the reformed old building, sunlight filtering through every crevice, and Goro glanced at his reflection on the sparkling water he had been working with. 

An average japanese teenager stared back.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Things seemed to be alright.

However, something felt off, as days went by. He kept on his duties, even dared to wander outside a few times after the first hair dye purchase, once to shop chewing gum for himself, something to keep himself busy when the itch to rip apart his own skin was too overwhelming. 

Yes, he was making progress, but something felt off.

It was a sneaky feeling, like he was being watched- and of course he was, by the kind people around him, but. This didn’t feel kind. 

It felt like Goro needed to look behind him constantly, and suddenly the sharp shadows that were once artistically interesting, began to become menacing. He acted normally, didn’t even tell the therapist about his worries, because they’d say he was just feeling that as a consequence of getting better, that these were his trust issues showing, and maybe they were, but Goro knew he wasn’t seeing things. He wasn’t just  _ feeling _ this shift out of nowhere. Something was going on.

He thought of piercing yellow eyes and an odd want for pumpkin bread. 

So, he lingered outside the room he was staying at, for longer than he used to. He had been a fake in many things, but his position of detective hadn’t all been for show. He had had his own cases, times where he had a little wiggle room in Shido’s vicious grip and he could act on his own, and those he solved more than well. In fact, those few cases were his pride and joy the time he had worked in the force. Little reminders that under the strings and masks, there was a semblance of a person. And now, that sharpness told him something was wrong. 

So he waited.

Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary at first glance, but every time he turned around, and tried to tell himself nothing was going on, he once again felt eyes on him. The women were the same as always, sometimes someone new came along, but nobody seemed that suspicious, and besides, Shido and his associates tended to bring other kinds of people to do their dirty jobs. 

There was also the possibility of something else being after him, he had made a lot of enemies in his life, and he couldn't discard the idea of someone else being out for his head. 

But this presence felt the exact same as being in that office, nursing a glass of booze he wouldn't drink the entirety of, surrounded by old conservative men and their spiels about making Japan great again. He had to smile sweetly at them as they droned on and on about ideals not even they believed in. It made him sick, wanting to throw up, yell at them, that a thing they disgusted was right in front of them, doing their dirty work for them.

That presence.

It had to be them.

Over tea with Chiyo-san, he subtly asked her if she had noticed anything wrong. Her eyebrows furrowed with worry, yet she didn’t seem to be aware of anything out of place. She did tell him, however, to listen around, perhaps something  _ was _ going on, and it hadn’t reached her years yet. 

And so he listened, looking for the trail of shadows that seemed to always flicker out of sight, till the source herself, a short woman with long black hair that had entered the facility only a few days before, locked eyes with him.

She gave him a secretive smile, black eyes narrowing slightly. That stare made Goro's mind raise as many alarms as it possibly could, the little hairs under his ponytail stood up, and time seemed to still.

They watched each other, not moving a muscle. The air around her stagnated, as if death followed anywhere she stepped foot on. He almost dropped the mop.

  
  


Shido never directly employed women. 

He knew that to be true, in all his three years of service, he had yet to see a single woman that wasn't either a prostitute, or some sort of servant around him. 

Even Ishikki, Shido treated her as yet another kind of gullible idiot. Even Sae was nothing more than an unmarried woman he could use as a pawn, in his eyes. Not even his mother in her peak, whom Shido seemed to have had a slight preference for before he grabbed her and fucked her entire life up, was more than a glorified hookup.

And so, he hadn't expected a woman after him. Even if she was just in an intelligence job, it had been an unexpected blow, something planned by people who knew both him and Shido, who knew the man to be such a misogynist that the thought of a woman being competent enough to complete a hitman mission was far beyond his comprehension, and knew enough to know Goro absolutely despised the way his father treated women, and so, didn't expect Shido to ever change his mind.

Goro didn't doubt this woman, or any woman's competence, not at all. He even was impressed by the way she had managed to sneak right under his radar till she wanted herself to be known.

The shock had yet to leave him, though. He looked so different, even acted different, how- how did she know?

Who had had the genius idea to send  _ a woman _ after him, knowing Goro wouldn't expect it from Shido, or any of his goons?

…

  
  


How much time did he have left?

He had yet to see Chiyo-san today.

Was his stuff okay.

Was he being tracked? 

How had they found him.

  
  


_ Was he that predictable. _

_ Why hadn't he left Tokyo when he had the chance.  _

The woman simply left the shelter, raising her hand to pry the door open. She was decked in copper jewelry. He stood up straighter, warily, fear and shock burning into anger. He wanted to go after her but-

He had yet to see Chiyo-san today.

_ He had yet to see Chiyo-san today. _

The realization hit Goro suddenly, and he immediately turned to look for her, frantically checking room after room, facing to apologise more than once after he got screams to shut the door and leave.

He kept searching, but couldn't find anything, and as the minutes dragged on, he got more and more worried. 

He finally got out to the empty backyard, taking a moment to catch his breath, eyes flickering everywhere in search of the old woman.

She sat on one of the benches, nursing a cup of tea. 

He let out a sigh of relief.

She was alright, at least.

"Naka- Chiyo-san?" He asked, tentatively getting closer. Her face lit up, and she eagerly gestured at him to sit down next to her. "It's a lovely day, isn't it Akechi?" He watched her in slight confusion, searching if she had any signs of harm on her face, yet she seemed to be displaying none, even if she did avoid staring straight into his eyes like before. 

The day went on normally, and for a moment Goro wondered if the woman had even been suspicious at all, and if he was just imagining things. Maybe he had been that insignificant to Shido and his people that they didn't even think about murdering him if he just disappeared.

But something still felt out of place.

And he was going to get to the bottom of this.

Night fell over the shelter.

Darkness seeped all over, and Goro still hadn't gone to bed. He couldn't get the woman out of his head. There was  _ something wrong _ with her, he was sure she was working for them, and yet. Nothing had happened.

He got out of his bed after a long while of moving around and failing to sleep, pacing quietly over the wooden floors. His escapades in the metaverse had been beneficial for something, he could be really quiet when he needed to, his body could easily blend in between shadows, and his agility helped him escape when someone was a little too close to seeing him. 

So, without disturbing anyone in the long corridors, he paced. Shades of warm brown had turned into cold blue, shadows taking over a majority of the corridor, only broken by a soft light in the furthest room. As if he was a moth attracted to a flame, Goro got closer. 

  
  


He heard whispers on the other side once he was close enough. A man's, and Nakamura-san's, both speaking calmly, despite the alarming contents of the talk once Goro figured out what exactly was going on. 

"That's a shame, Nakamura-san. This place is a refuge for so many women who desperately need it, and you're willing to throw it all away for a parasite leeching off your kindness."

"I don't know what you're talking about." 

"I'm sure you do, Nakamura-san. Just say the truth, please." The tone was sickly sweet.

"I am saying the truth. Look at our records. There is not a single man under that name registered here."

Silence, a rustle of paper. 

"Does this refresh your memory, Nakamura-san?"

Goro could swear he heard the soft gasp she let out.

…

That's what the black haired woman had been doing, then. 

Taking pictures of him.

Taking notes on his movements.

How hadn't he noticed.

**_How._ **

This could cost him his life, a life he had promised himself wouldn't end on the hands of Shido and his people. He refused to be killed like if he was a useless machine that broke. 

And in his relaxation, in his careless thoughts that hey, maybe he had just been forgotten, he didn't even notice this. It wasn’t that he was too careful.

He hadn’t been careful  _ enough _ .

"He is a resident just as much as the others here." Chiyo shot back, tone tense, wary.

"So now he's a resident. How come he isn't in the records, then?" The man’s tone even seemed amused.

"His status- he. Needed to be kept under wraps, so his fans wouldn't get to him. He's simply a troubled kid looking for help, and that's what we do here." She scrambled to say, trying to salvage the situation as much as she could.

"Oh, is he? Are you aware the kid is a wanted criminal, then?”

A silent reply.

“He isn't seeking help, Nakamura-san. He's just here to squat till he can find a better place to stay at. This place could burn down and his only reaction would be to search for another room. Think about your work. The employees here. The many people who live off of working here. Are you willing to let so many people end up without a job?"

"I.. what, a criminal? The kid is a saint!"

Another rustle of paper. 

Silence.

An audible gasp.

"We have all the right to shut your place down for keeping criminals hidden. Are you aware of the consequences that entails, Nakamura-san? Just hand us the kid, and we'll do as if nothing ever happened. You'll keep being able to help hundreds." 

  
  
  


Goro didn't need to hear anything else. He had successfully infected this place with his presence. Thanks to him being selfish, staying longer than what he had originally meant to, the consequences would fall on Nakamura-san and all her employees.

Many women would be left without a refuge. The memory of his mother would be tainted forever. It didn't matter what she replied, even if she eagerly agreed to turn him in, he would already be gone by morning.

  
  


His mind was racing.

Had he been that easy to find?

That's right, he hadn't left Tokyo, he was only in the outskirts. He hadn't traveled far enough, all for the sentimental urge of seeing a piece of old rock again. He could've slept that night at the cemetery and taken the train the following morning. Yet he didn’t, he wanted to stay, because he was a whiny little boy who still wanted his mom. He kept replaying the events in his head, thinking how he could’ve been found.

...His eyes shot open. 

He had turned on his phone, and made a Google search. 

On a bugged phone.

On a bugged phone that most likely straight up put a neon sign over Akechi's head saying "I'm here, come murder me!!"

**He truly was an idiot.**

  
  


Just as quietly as before, he sauntered back to his roo- the storage room. He had to pack up.

Fast.

He threw everything he had with him inside his backpack, the gum in between his teeth getting aggressively chewed as he frantically got everything ready to flee. Once the backpack was stuffed full, and a jacket was over his body, Goro took a pause.

He stood there, in the middle of a storage room that had been turned upside down on the matter of an hour, and sighed.

What now. 

_ Well, your escape. _

Where would he go?

_ Anywhere.  _

The countryside?

_ You need to blend in. _

A city, then?

_ Any place with enough people to blend in. _

…

He'd find out where he was going once he was at the station.

He thought of Chiyo-san for a moment, the kindness she had shown him. Even if she now despised him after finding out what he had done, he wanted to thank her. 

He searched for an impulse purchase he had made a few days ago. It was a black notebook, with Black Falcon, of Phoenix Featherman R (truly the best installment in the series,) sketched in white simple lines on the front. He opened it carefully, white gloved hands (he had intended on going to sleep with them on, his hands sometimes got too hard to look at), going through pages of doodles made out of frustration and venting, and ripping out a page. Using a pen he would leave behind, he scribbled a message in rushed letters, because at least she deserved to know she hadn't failed Yua's son.

Once he was satisfied with his final words, he put everything together, ultimately deciding to leave the notebook behind. He could always get another.

As he walked out, he took his phone out, glancing at the black screen. Without much fanfare, completely blank faced, he grabbed both ends of the device, and cracked it in half. A few blocks later, it got thrown in the trash.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The following morning, Chiyo woke up with her head killing her. She had barely slept, thinking over and over about the man that had come in at the end of the day, who had cornered her and calmly threatened her livelihood. Guilt ran over her, when weighing in the two options, she'd had to choose what would help more lives. She shouldn't have to have been forced to make a choice between them. She appreciated Goro, she had truly wanted him to be better, to succeed where Yua had failed, to help him and be a shoulder he could cry on. 

And yet, she had failed an Akechi once more. But she also had many others, so many others that depended on her. So many lives she could easily ruin. And in the back of her own building, threatened by a government agent, she was forced to make a choice. 

She just hoped Akechi would forgive her.

Which one? She wasn't sure. 

Pacing through the building with a grim expression the moment she came in, she braced herself to tell Goro he had to escape. She could already imagine the hatred in those red eyes, the resentment, how he could possibly turn into an irredeemable case after a betrayal of the little trust he had given someone. (Was Chiyo the first person he had trusted in a long while? What if she was? What if this had been his last attempt at escaping from a horrible fate?

_ What if he ended up like Yua? _ Goro never spoke of friends, partners, not even of people he particularly liked. Only once had he mentioned a "him", yet when Chiyo asked for him to elaborate, Goro refused to. Did he even have a support network?  _ How come she hadn’t asked? _ )

She bit her lip worriedly, and gently knocked on the door of the storage room Goro had been staying at.

Silence.

Was he still asleep? It was rare, Goro usually was already out and about even before she came in, and he wasn't the type to sleep in.

Even more worried, she decided to open the door. If she caught him doing something he didn't want her to see, it would go to the pile of things she would have to apologise for. 

The room was empty. 

Correction: the room was a mess, but there was no Goro in it. 

Correction: the room was a mess, Goro wasn't there, and neither were his things.

Correction: the room was a mess, Goro wasn't there, most of his things were gone, but a notebook had been left behind. 

  
  


She immediately went to grab it. 

It was opened on a ripped page, where scribbled in barely legible japanese, were a few sentences addressed to her.

_ "Dear Nakamura-san: _

_ You shouldn't have to make this choice, so I'm going to make it for you. By the time you read this, I'll be long gone.  _

_ Where? I don't know. _

_ Will I call? No. _

_ Am I okay? You often asked me that, so I guess I should answer honestly for once. I'll be okay. For now, I'm not sure. _

_ I must thank you, however, for what you've done for me. My stay under your care was more than pleasant, and I sincerely wish you, and this institution, to go on with your mission to rehabilitate people. Thank you for the afternoon tea and the pleasant conversations. Thank you for taking care of my mother before me, as well, and I hope I managed to repay some of her debt to you with my services.  _

_ Goodbye, perhaps forever.  _

_ It was a pleasure seeing you again. _

_ -A. _

_ Ps: I finished the book you lent me, "Burning roses". The title was fitting. The murderer I had known who it was by page thirty, but I was pleasantly surprised her motivation wasn't revenge on her ex boyfriend, as I expected. It was wonderfully written as well. I left it on the bed, beside the pillow.  _

_ Perhaps sometime in the future I'll buy my own copy." _

Chiyo took the notebook with her.

* * *

The past few days felt like hell for Akira. 

Everywhere he went, he couldn’t escape the glances thrown his way. The green fields felt oppressive, the streets tighter and tighter as the days went by. Even Morgana felt anxious, pacing around his room the moments his parents weren’t home. It was claustrophobic, and it got even worse on his first gym class, when Akira got a little too close to a classmate while changing, and he got yelled at to move away, using a word that stung to his very core, and Akira  _ wasn’t going to repeat _ , not even in his head. Ouch. It seemed people hadn’t forgotten the old crush he had on a classmate, and now that they were out for his blood, they had absolutely no problem bringing it up. However, he didn’t give them the satisfaction of reacting. Instead, he stared at them blankly, and went on with what he had to do. 

He had channeled some of the energy Goro used to have in those dark moments, just to keep himself afloat, making his back stand up straighter, making his eyes sharper ( _ even if he would burst into tears the second he was alone with Morgana _ ), his replies snappier.

He wasn’t going to deny a half of his identity for the sake of a couple of maladjusted bullies. Even if the whole town seemed to be composed of those. 

In a year, he would be away from this backwards town.

Back with those he loved most, in contact with the ones further away.

He was going to be fine, even as he kept fidgeting with the gloves whenever he wore them, even if his words wobbled when he had to talk for too long. Even when he bumped into his old elementary school friends, and they all but scoffed at him for even daring to look his way.

He ate lunch with Morgana, in the most secluded spot he could, feeding him parts of his self-made bento (which, he soon found out, he had to triple check it hadn’t been tampered with, as one day he forgot, and the moment he opened the box he found himself face to face with a bunch of earthworms.), and making small talk. 

Morgana tried to cheer him up, and sometimes it worked! But other times it just fell flat. Sometimes he’d text his friends. Sometimes they took a little too long to text back, and Akira had to resist the urge of going in a spiral consisting of the words “ _ they forgot about me _ ” and “ _ mom and dad were right about me being shameful _ ”. He was being silly, and he knew it. They loved him. All of them, they had shown so time and time again.

It was just that the whispers around him were sometimes too many.

  
  


The moment he went back to the empty house ( _ that house, the one that felt as if it was going to collapse over him at any second _ -), he found out there was no toilet paper left, thanks to Morgana’s helpful screaming. Great that he found out with his pants on, at least. The fridge too, when he opened it, was once again empty.

A trip to Junes it would be.

He felt a little pang of petty pleasure on going to Junes instead of literally anywhere else, because at least there the employees were trained to be nice to him, and he didn’t have to endure the offended glances of the clerks of local establishments. So, with Morgana in his bag, he went his merry way, keeping his head low and his protective scowl on the whole time. 

The trip was uneventful, he got everything he needed and was told to “come back!” with a fake customer service smile, as shopping for necessities should be. As the sun set, and the bags rustled along with his movements, Akira let out a soft little sigh, daring to look up. Not many people were focused on him at the moment, and the few who were didn’t seem to want to yell anything at him. They were content enough with just staring. 

Just a few more blocks, he reminded himself, and in another moment he would’ve appreciated the look of the slowly setting sun, but he honestly wasn’t in the mood for walking around the streets of Inaba at night.

It brought back too many painful memories.

He was about to roll his eyes internally at the person staring in his direction, when he noticed something both odd and refreshing.

The person wasn’t staring at Akira. His face seemed to be contorted in loud, disapproving disgust, yet it wasn’t thrown his way. Huh. Out of human instinct, or simply wanting to know who else could invoke that kind of wrath on a random passerby, he turned his head. 

  
  
  
  


It felt as if his whole world had lit up all of a sudden.

Right there, near him, was a couple. They unashamedly had their hands linked together, their voices intermingled in private conversation, soft little chuckles emanating from the both of them. The novelty? The cause of utter disgust from random old people?

They were both men.

One was tall and imposing, yet his expression showed he was gentle to those he loved, a dopey little smile on his face as he listened on to what his lover was going on and on about. The silver bowl cut shouldn’t look that cute, Akira told himself, yet it somehow worked, reflecting the warm sunset oranges and yellows in a way it lit up his whole face and gave it an ethereal quality. It contrasted with his talkative lover’s orange dyed hair, a color that reminded Akira of the non biological little sister he loved, a color that made him look down to earth and approachable, the splay of freckles all over his tanned cheeks emphasizing that feeling. They seemed to be in their own little world, and Akira wasn’t close enough to listen on, but he imagined that what they were saying was as equally as loving as the way they looked at each other. They were in a whole other plane of existance for Akira, the aura of “I don’t give a single fuck what you think about me” being so strong it  _ radiated _ off the pair. 

  
  


God, 

  
  


**he’d never wanted to befriend someone this badly before.**

  
  
  
  


( _ Well, maybe Goro, but that had been with.. other intentions in mind. _ )

The spell broke when tall silver hair glanced at Akira with wary, yet unashamed eyes. It didn’t stop Akira’s yearning for friendship, though. His face broke into a dopey little grin, as if wanting to scream “Me too, bitch! Me too!!” right into the other’s mind. 

It seemed he had finally unlocked his Matilda potential, because silver hair broke into his own little happy grin, giving him an acknowledging nod and a wink, then he turned back to his partner, who curiously inquired what he was doing. Once he had been informed, he turned to look back excitedly and offer him a wave, sunshine grin straight up blinding Akira, before the pair walked off. 

  
  
  
  


Akira hadn’t felt this happy in a long while. Even as he flopped on the cold hard mattress of his bed, he couldn’t stop smiling. Morgana, sitting on his chest, smiled right back at him.

There was  _ hope _ .

* * *

Ah, yes. 

**Education:**

( /ɛdjʊˈkeɪʃ(ə)n/ )

_ Noun _

  * The process of receiving or giving systematic instruction, especially at a school or university.



  
  


  * An enlightening experience.



  
  
  


  * The reason why Futaba Sakura was wearing the itchiest skirt she has ever worn in her entire life.



  
  


She hated this. The desk was too small and she couldn’t properly spread all her stuff, she was surrounded by people she didn’t even know ( _ ugh _ ), and all she wanted was to be home in front of her  _ baby _ . Literally nobody knew her in this classroom, and that made Futaba want to jump out of a window. A three story fall was completely survivable, wasn’t it? It at least saved her the problem of having to  _ socialize _ . 

Why did she have to do that again? What was even the point?

She hid behind her orange hair, which she had been told to dye back to black as soon as possible, and tried to make herself smaller so the others would stop looking at her. Her fellow second years seemed to already be forming friend groups, aesthetics recognizing each other and grouping up, but so far nobody had stared at her enough to actually, y’know,  _ want to talk to her _ . It felt strange, this simultaneous want to fit in and to go home, if she didn’t have friends she was awkward and weird, and if she had friends she actually would have to make the effort of talking to them. She stared at her desk a little harder, daring it to set on fire and maybe burn her down too. She was missing out on  _ so much _ by being away from her computer, and her fingers itched to be typing away. Instead, they came up to rest on the desk she had been planning on burning, and began tapping against it. 

She wondered what Sojiro was up to while the teacher walked inside the classroom. Probably old person stuff. Maybe talking to one of the cafe’s regulars, trying not to strangle him as he went on yet another pro thinly veiled nationalism rant. (Hadn’t they gotten rid of Shido? Why the hell was his party still going on strong?)

She wondered what Akira was up to while the teacher began writing his name on the board. (English could be a pretty boring subject, but this man looked pretty funky if Futaba said it herself. He had a nice earring on his right ear and a casual purple sweater, and while she had no idea about aesthetics like, say, Inari, she thought earring man was pretty cute for a middle aged dude. Mr. Toudou, huh. She liked the name “earring man” a lot better.)

Akira was probably doing his own thing in the middle of nowhere. She resisted the urge to text him, as she really wanted to see what was the deal with Earring Man, she could wait an hour. At the same time, she could craft what she was going to tell him about..  _ the incident _ .

Ah, yes. 

The incident.

She still had no idea what that had been, and no matter how much she tried poking around, it had been gone as soon as it came.

It had been, as always, five am. She was keeping herself busy with a plate of too cold curry and the high score she was desperately trying to get, when it happened.

On the monitor she kept up to keep tabs on her friends, a screen that had been dead for a while flickered to life. It took a few minutes for her to see it, but when she did, she almost dropped the plate of curry. Fuck the score, fuck everything. She immediately moved towards it in a frantic frenzy, quickly trying to at least pinpoint the exact location of the user, who seemed to be searching on Google maps a neighborhood. Was it even Akechi? What if it was someone else with his phone? She screenshotted as much as she could, and tried next to hack the phone’s camera, so she could see if it was true- if the cockroach had actually respawned. But. 

As soon as she began the process, even as fast as she could, the phone was dead once more.

She stayed there, in shock, for a few moments, before letting out a loud, pained groan, which even prompted Sojiro to barge in, worriedly, and sleepily, asking if she was okay. She turned towards him, and maybe she had been crying? Because Sojiro made a beeline straight to her, and comforted her. 

She.. had wanted to give Akira the good news. That maybe Mr. Ace Detective Cockroach Man had resurrected, and maybe they could finally watch some anime, or something.

But now, all she had was a Google search of a map, which she wasn’t even sure if it had been done by Akechi, as phones could be stolen, and she could go and snoop around, but the only three interesting things around that neighborhood were the cemetery (where they’d have buried him if the Metaverse, or Maruki, had gotten the decency to spit his body out instead of voring it), that drugstore that seemed to be literally everywhere in Japan (were you really a japanese gen z kid if you never got stuck in Satomi Tadashi while your mom spoke to the old lady behind the counter who seemed to always say ominous shit?), and a crisis center for battered women, which Futaba highly doubted Akechi of all people would go to. The rest were just houses. Maybe the man had a long lost twin brother who lived there? Maybe he was on a super secret ex assassin mission. 

...Aaaaand maybe he was just dead and someone had stolen his phone and was looking up where the nearest Satomi Tadashi was. Usually, the simplest explanation was the true one. 

But with all the Metaverse fuckery of last year? Futaba wasn’t so sure anymore.

  
  
  


She ended up convincing Inari to go with her in an intelligence mission, or rather, an outing where Yusuke tried to sketch every single unremarkable house ever and Futaba pulled him where he needed him to go yelling at him that “This is serious, dumb Inari!”

They ended up not seeing any detective princes, but they did stop to buy some candy. Okay, maybe a lot of candy. And by them Futaba meant she bought it, and Yusuke ate it. Which she was fine with, he needed some sugar in his system after all. 

But even after looking around for hours, nothing had happened, and what had she even been expecting? She laughed to herself bitterly, and with Yusuke they went back to Inokashira park, where they spent the rest of the afternoon sitting under a tree, Yusuke drawing and her making comments about how he should totally draw her oc with like, mega badonkers. Ultra big titties. The bigges- She laughed when Yusuke shoved her away from his sketchbook. 

Man, she loved the guy. But even with the laughter, they eventually got back to the topic that had brought them together that day. Akechi. The phone thing had turned out to be a farce.

She couldn’t bring Akira good news. 

And maybe.. maybe the guy truly was completely gone.

Her eyes drifted to the people around them. The happy couples, the playful children. The lake. It felt.. slightly unfair, that Akechi never got to have moments like this, sitting next to a friend, with no ulterior motives, simply staring at a lake and at the people around said lake. Had.. had Akechi ever had moments like this?

Had he ever been truly happy? Or had his life been just a cycle of endless suffering?

Futaba had happy memories, many, even with the dark spot that was her mother’s death.

Did.. did Akechi regret killing her? He had been fifteen when he killed her.

...Did he even know what killing truly entailed?

...Did  _ she _ even know what killing truly entailed?

She suddenly understood why Inari enjoyed watching people. Turning to stare back at him, she found herself seeing his concentrated features, the way his eyes seemed icy at first, but she knew better, she knew of the passion lurking underneath. As he put the pencil down on that specific sketch, he turned to look back at her. She offered him a soft smile. He offered one back. 

She wondered if Akechi had ever felt the kind of deep love one could only feel for their true friends.

She wondered if Akira and him shared something more. 

She wondered if it would be good to tell him about the phone fiasco. For now, she made Inari promise he wouldn’t tell, till she knew if it was safe to tell him or not. By safe, she meant that Akira was already hurting. He was in Inaba, surrounded by people who hated him (she quickly figured out that they didn’t just ignore him thanks to the bug on his phone), and away from her and Sojiro, his found family. She.. wasn’t sure if getting his hopes up only to crush them in the same sentence was the right thing to do. But she didn’t exactly like keeping secrets from him either. Maybe drop the bomb as a joke? Maybe-

  
  


Earring man let out a loud cough.

Futaba blinked awake from her thoughts, turning towards him. Oh, she wasn’t being called out, the girl on the other desk was. Nice. 

  
  


Lunch came a lot sooner than she expected, with a surprising lack of need to use her phone, and Futaba didn’t exactly want to get out of her seat. Not because the thing was comfortable, hell no, and the itchy skirt didn’t help either, but because the crowd that had formed outside the classroom terrified her. The amount of people got bigger and bigger, and she could only shiver at the thought of having to navigate between them in hopes of getting, ugh,  _ fresh air _ . Well, at least she could bother Akira during her break, couldn’t she? She pulled her phone out and began typing a message, when her screen was suddenly obscured by a bunch of red hair. She looked up, a little confused, only to be staring right at Sumire’s face. At Sumire’s beautiful, angelic face. Y’know, the one with the long eyelashes, and the perfectly symmetrical lips, and her chubby cheeks that made Futaba want to- ( _ whoa there, cowboy! _ ) She quickly averted her gaze, coughing under her breath. “Heey, Sumi!” 

And then she was right back on her face. Futaba swore this woman wanted to kill her.

“Futaba-senpai! Soooo.. how’s school treating you so far?” 

Oh, had they recently repainted the wall? What a lovely pastel teal. “It’s- it’s been treating me well, dude! Y’know, surviving. Going with the wind.” Oh god, Futaba,  _ shut up _ .

“I’m glad. I- Honestly, senpai, I was a little worried for you.” She said, with her stupid angel voice, sitting her stupidly nice butt (not like she  _ noticed _ that, no sir) on the empty chair in front of Futaba’s desk.

“Yeah?” She squeaked out, finally glancing at her properly. Sumire just stared back kindly.

Okay, she needed to  _ relax _ . This was just Sumire. Just Sumire!

Stupidly pretty Sumire.

  
  


Somehow, she ended up agreeing to go see Sumire’s performance the following Friday. She left the classroom the moment the bell rang, waving at her excitedly, ponytail bouncing after her. Futaba only gave her a little smile, grasping the tickets in her hand. There were one for her and one for a plus one- if Akira had been there, she would’ve told him to come with her, but the dork was all the way in Inaba. Maybe she could invite Ryuji? Or would he be too busy with the move? Ann was out of the question, she was spending her last days in the country for the year with her girlfriend, and she sadly didn’t have three tickets. Yusuke? He would totally appreciate the  _ aesthetics of artistic gymnastics _ , so. She made a mental note to ask him. But in case he couldn’t go, maybe she could ask Haru, or Makoto. Yeah, they were busy with college, but maybe they could come.

Okay, possible companion acquired. She was totally going.

Wonderful! Beautiful! Amazing!

Except she had almost no idea what the hell Sumire would be doing. What were the flips called? The wooshy things with her ribbon?? She was the nerd, not the jock in this rel-- friendship.  _ Friendship _ . 

Futaba realised that night would be a wikipedia fest.

* * *

The station’s lights shone harshly over his features, and Goro decided he was beginning to hate trains. He had no idea where he was going, if there was even any train out of the city running this late he could purchase a ticket for, and he was  _ starving _ . 

Like the angry dead man walking he felt he was, the small, **_stupid_** **_fucking ant_** he found out he could be, he went straight for the station’s 24/7 cafe, with the full intent of purchasing the first thing with enough grease to sustain him he saw. 

A slam on the counter containing the needed yen to buy the disgusting looking savory crepe and a cup of black coffee later, he began storming off the place. His steps were heavy, yet his back remained straight, because he was stupid, but not stupid enough to flaunt said stupidity around. He was leaving, when he suddenly bumped into a very hard, and very warm, surface. Oh.  _ Oh no. _

_ God fucking-- Damnit. _

He had spilled half of his cup right all over a stranger. Said man said nothing while Goro profusely apologized (even if all he wanted was to loudly scream at this man for being in his way) and bowed deeply, trying to get out of the situation with as little confrontation as possible. There was a time and a place for confrontation, and really, this wasn’t it. 

But when he didn’t even get a reply, Goro looked up from the soiled grey and green hoodie.

  
  


He..wasn’t expecting  _ that  _ face staring back at him.

It felt as if there was something horribly wrong with it.

The details weren’t okay. The eyes were too deep, the skin looked more like a very fine sand duster than actual flesh, the teeth, when he smiled politely, were too sharp. Inhuman. His eyes darted as subtly as they could to the minimally too long limbs, to the beginnings of a tattoo on both of his wrists. A bead of sweat ran down Goro’s back, and he almost dropped the crepe.

“Eh, fair enough. I was in your way.” The… man? Boy? He couldn’t be older than twenty, shrugged. He didn’t seem to mind at all the inevitable huge coffee stain the hoodie would have. “Lemme buy ya another drink.” Goro found himself agreeing, as if he couldn’t physically tell this man no. Both went back inside the cafe, where the man bought Goro’s order, and a cappuccino for himself. As they waited, Goro could feel the pits of hell that were those dark eyes staring at him, evaluating. 

He felt as if he was talking to a shadow in the real world. Hell, with all the strange shit that had happened, maybe he was. He wasn’t that stupid, the collective unconscious couldn’t just poof out of existance, it would always come back. Perhaps it was building itself right back up that very moment, and this was a sort of king of the depths of hell that had decided it would be amusing to get himself a human drink. 

They stared at each other for a moment, and the man just smiled a little wider.

Goro was certain, in that moment, that whatever this thing was, he wouldn’t be able to survive in a fight against it. Something told him that.

The coffee machine made a ping! sound.

“Here you go, pretty boy.” The man handed Goro his drink, and he grabbed it without touching the being’s fingers. Huh. They were tattooed. Why hadn’t he noticed that before?

“Thank you for kindness, ah..”

“Kashima.”

“Kashima-san.” Even the name felt horribly wrong. “Thank you so, so much.” The sugary sludge in his throat permeated up to his nose. He felt as if he would have to beg for his life at any second. “And I apologise once again for the damage.” 

The being rolled his eyes, his smile fading into something subtler, as if he was in on a joke that Goro wasn’t. “It’s fine, I’ll survive with a coffee stain. I’m glad you’re aight and didn’t fall down or something.” The dark eyes didn’t leave Goro’s face. The sweat accumulated.

That subtle smile unsettled him, so did the way the air seemed to  _ crackle _ around him, as if even that was intimidated by him. He turned to walk to the door, Kashima behind him. He glanced at the almost empty station, turning away his head from the man for a second, then turned back, to say goodbye, and maybe another thank you. There was nobody next to him.

He would not see that figure again at the station, no matter how much he looked around frantically, even after purchasing the ticket to the only train leaving that late at night. There wasn’t a single trace of that man, nowhere. 

It.

It made Goro feel even smaller than before, wondering just how little idea he had of the world around him, and how easily he could’ve been ripped apart to pieces by demons he never encountered, no matter how much power he harvested.

Some creatures couldn’t be defeated. That, scared Goro to his core.

Just.. just how lucky had he and the phantom thieves been?

The idea that their success could actually have been only by luck, and not actual skill, scared him further.

He took a bite off the crepe. It tasted just as disgusting as it looked.

But hey, he needed the calories.

  
  
  
  
  


The train came right on time, it’s light flooding the tunnel, Goro’s hair lifting slightly from the air it rustled. Only five others boarded the train with him. Good, he could get a seat to collapse and try not to have yet another mental breakdown on. The phone he got on the way to the station wasn’t much, it was cheap and outdated, with horrible camera quality, but he bought it in cash with a plan that assured he wouldn’t be tied to the company, and he could pay only when he needed it, and it had access to the internet and maps. It was more than enough. He took it out, loading the maps app, typing the name of the place he would end up in after the nightly journey. All he knew was that the place had a population with enough zeroes to hide someone like him, and that had been enough at the moment of ticket purchase. 

But honestly, he had absolutely no idea about Sumaru City, so he should better research a little about what the hell he was getting himself into. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! There's a reason why this is persona series and not just persona 5 :p   
> At it's heart it's an Akeshu story, so don't worry lmao  
> And now i'll fuck off for who knows how long


	6. chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goro's first impression of Sumaru City.
> 
> Akira was having a great day, really. Then it got ruined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! happy bi visibility day!! Have a shorter chapter!!

The train’s light cast a gentle glow over the few people traveling to Sumaru City, bathing everything in a pale shade of green. The map that the phone’s screen offered when he booted it up showed an array of skytrees and messy highways, a symphony of urban progress that sprawled down a mountain, and in its need to keep expanding, had swallowed most of it, only being stopped by the tourist attraction that offered the forest. It also stopped near the ocean waves, as the city had turned out to be a portuary one, dealing with international shipping and various other affairs. The sight of the sea made him a little nervous, thinking of piercing yellow eyes for a second, yet he willed the thought away. 

This city was perfect. 

It looked big enough to hide in, and that’s what mattered. With 3.7 million others, Goro would be just a little hard to find, and with the addition of so many different people coming in and out of it constantly, he would be invisible. He now congratulated himself on finding a pretty much empty train to get there. 

It surprised him that there were a few universities in the city, and even more so when he pulled up the opinions on them and found that their reputation was actually a lot better than he had expected, and the number of enrolled students, especially in one of the institutions, was quite high.

A vague idea began forming in his head.

  
  


Goro felt a little cold, and more than a little tired, as he brought the cup of coffee he had bought to his face. It wasn’t the best circumstance to be eating at, but as nobody seemed to be giving him funny looks, he downed it anyways.

It was bitter.

He’d had coffee a lot better than this. ( _ Or perhaps it had been the server’s smile what had sweetened the deal. Either possibility could be, and if Goro didn’t spend so much energy repressing any thought of the possibility of being genuinely loved, he’d have chuckled. _ )

In between his legs was his backpack, which was more than anything a mess of everything he had packed in the hurried moments that led up to this, and it took over space uncomfortably. 

The moon seemed to accompany the train, keeping watch over him and his fellow passengers, following at a safe distance so as to not bother anyone. For a moment, watching it through the glass, Goro thought of piano keys and blue flowers.

His mother used to play the piano when he was younger. She wasn’t an expert by all means, her fingers were slow and unpracticed, and her movements were at times a little sloppy, and she would miss a key or two. But she had learned one song perfectly, and that had been more than enough. Goro and her sat in front of the old thing, a gift from Yua’s mother before she had been cut out of her life for being pregnant out of wedlock, and she played it for him. Clair de Lune filled the little room, and Goro would simply look at her, at her concentrated red eyes, at the way her tongue stuck out slightly from between her chapped lips. At her beautiful blue dress. Her roughed up hands.

Sometimes she derailed the song, into something sillier, messier, and Goro would make up a song, to sing offkey along. She always smiled, and kept going, her movements getting wilder, more excited, a happy chirp in a love language only they understood.

_ Blah blah, and then everything went to shit. _

It took a few years for everything to collapse.

_ Yes, but it basically went to shit. _

Goro was glad nobody could read his thoughts. Or if by some strange God induced power someone could, at least they kept quiet about it. He didn’t need to explain the lengthy conversations with himself, or the sheer amount of pondering and overthinking that went inside his head.

As he finished the last sips of his bitter coffee, he got back to the present, or rather, the immediate past. 

_What even_ _had happened?_

In a sense, he now knew gods were real. Not unlike the ones people kept going on and on about, the ones that represented the concepts of salvation, reformation, ruin and rehabilitation. Akira had spoken a bit about those last two concepts, the few moments they spent alone in Maruki's palace. 

The string of events Akira had explained didn’t sound too far fetched, not anymore, and the idea that he had been doomed from the start gave him a bit of comfort in his hatred, the confirmation Akira was a golden child backing up his mentality. After all, what was an angel without a demon? Light without dark? Structure without rebellion? A man without his rival? Thesis without antithesis?

It gave him a role in a pointless narrative. Justice by his own means had been taken away from him, and now there only stood anger, bleeding wounds, unrequited love, the things that hurt too much to be looked at directly. 

So, he hated.

And hated.

And hated, till numbness took over.

The last string of events had left Goro a little numb in his hatred. It hadn't disappeared, not at all, yet he felt too tired to hate someone who time and time again had only given him compassion. Whom Goro more than once felt blindsided by his welcoming behavior. It almost felt useless, hating someone he wasn’t even going to see anymore.

  
  


The black fields passed him by.

The moon kept watching.

His cheek pressed against the window. 

_ Why had he felt so.. _

_ stuck? _

_ intimidated? _

_ fearful? _

Perhaps he had met a God that hadn’t participated in the horrible game he had been a pawn for. Perhaps they were starting a new one, without him.

Perhaps he had proven to be too weak to play again. Compared to that being, at least, he had certainly been. He knew his power to be stronger than Akira’s, than Joker’s flair and drama, as he had proven so time and time again in their shared battles, in the battles against each other. It had taken the whole Phantom Thieves team to take him down, after all, and that meant he was powerful. Powerful enough to stomp them like puny ants, if he hadn’t already been mentally..  _ compromised _ . He was stronger than the team that had defeated a God, damnit!

But that  _ thing _ ?

That thing wouldn’t let Goro even finish the word  _ Persona _ before he was crushed to pieces. Deep inside of him, he knew it to be so. 

If he was wrong in considering the.. man.. a God, or a King of Hell, if that was actually the new champion chosen by the divine in yet another sick game, they had sure upped the difficulty.

At the cost of physical appearance, though.

  
  
  
  
  


It would be a few hours till the train arrived in Sumaru City.

He supposed he could take a nap, and he considered it, as he looked from passenger to passenger, until one of them caught his eye, and sleep was forgotten.

On the row next to his, sat a woman focused on a book that rested on her lap, her black curls obscuring part of her stern face. In the natural curiosity of a detective, Goro tilted his head to read the book’s cover. 

To his surprise, it was  _ “Burning Roses” _ .

  
  


He wondered if Nakamura-san was alright.

At least he hoped the note he had left behind would be enough for an alibi in her favor, a proof that she was being truthful when she inevitably had to declare she didn’t know where Goro had gone. He worried for her safety, her bodily integrity, yet he now knew for sure after having been found out so easily, that he couldn’t risk contacting her. For all he knew, they were counting on him worrying and calling her, only for them to trace the call. 

He would have to worry, a thing still foreign and strange to him when directed at someone that wasn’t himself or- _ no no no he wasn’t going to admit that, not tonight _ \- in silence. But for the small time he knew the woman, she had proved to be strong, dealing with crying women, with those who fought and scratched and yelled in a panic attack, with those that stayed silent for days and wouldn’t eat a single bite. She kept reaching out to him, the one who had suspected her every single movement, with a patient smile and a firm grip on his hand.

If her body wasn't strong, it more than compensated with her mind.

He trusted her to be alright.

  
  
  


It seemed his staring at the book had gone on for a little too long, because he found the woman to be staring right back at him with an amused little smile.

“It’s a murder mistery novel.” She informed him, raising the book slightly with her hand. That made him fully snap out of his trance, shaking his head a little, huffing out an amused exhale. “I finished it just a few days ago, actually. I just- hadn’t seen anyone out and about with it before.” He quickly erased from his mind the sentence  _ the book you’re holding right now may be my last memory of a place that welcomed my mother at her lowest and helped me get a little more time to get my shit together thanks to a lady that might now have to deal with government agents for months as a consequence of getting too close to me, isn’t that funny? _ as he instead focused on the woman he was now roped into a conversation with. Said woman nodded in acknowledgement. “Huh! Well, I bought it yesterday and can’t seem to put it down for two seconds, so. It’s pretty good.”

“Who do you think the killer is, so far?”

“It’s totally the cleaning lady. It has to be!” Goro’s polite smile widened in amusement, sharpened at the petty sensation of being more perceptive than the person he was speaking to. It had been a while since the last time he could rejoice in being right about something, and damn if he wasn't going to enjoy it.

They spoke for a little while longer, pleasant and polite, exchanged book recommendations, talked about the things they enjoyed in this one, the woman too easily agreeing with him over and over.

It wasn't stimulating, nor groundbreaking, or traumatizing.

Just average,  _ dull _ , and it bored Goro slightly, as he tended to crave a little more in his conversations. So, he wrapped it up after too little debating for his tastes, and he decided to instead concentrate on gaining energy for what would be a tiring morning. 

  
  
  


For once, he didn't dream. 

  
  
  


He only opened his eyes once more, pulling out the burner phone and checking the time. 5:46 am. Fourteen minutes till arrival.

Fourteen more minutes in a train.

  
  
  


In a split moment of cruelty towards himself, he remembered the time he had caused a train crash, the noise of folding metal as it derailed off the tracks and crashed against a wall, Shido’s praise, the respect of the men around him as he was made to watch the scene of the crash alongside them. The relaxed postures they carried, for having made a minor do their dirty work. He sank in his seat further, shame slowly creeping up his back with the memories of the sheer amount of hurt he had truly caused, the blood he now carried on his hands thanks to a foolish desire to have revenge on a father that had known who he was the moment he walked through the door. 

Perhaps, if the train crashed and killed him, it would be poetic justice.

If it crashed, however, he would take even more lives with him. Even more blood on his hands, even more souls joining the sea. More lives cut short.

If it crashed, it would destroy a monster, for the price of dragging along the innocent in the payment of his sins. 

If it crashed, he would finally be dead for good, wouldn't he? Or would death spit him back out once more?

  
  


It didn’t crash.

It smoothly stopped at the station it should be stopping at, the announcer said what she should say, and while Goro picked up his things to get off the train, he tried, and failed, to stop his hands from trembling.

The first rays of sunlight fell over his figure through the station’s windows, finding himself in between the first signs of an upcoming crowd, scarce patches of black suits and black hair getting ready to begin yet another day of crushing labor, which he quickly navigated, back as straight as ever, avoiding any chance of being touched. His eyes darted in between the people, alert and eternally suspicious, now having a proper reason on why he had to be so. Yet, he found nothing out of the ordinary. He kept going, and only breathed out in relief once he was outside, staring at Sumaru’s chaotic landscape.

An urge coursed through his body, and in the midst of rejecting it for the sake of all the work he had to do, 

he realised he didn’t have to do that. 

  
  


No, he could actually make the urge a reality, it wasn’t as if he had any timetables anymore.

Without meaning to, a small smile settled on his face. He could explore whatever he wanted. Yes, he still had to be careful to not be caught so easily like last time, yet there was this implicit  _ freedom _ he had never experienced before. He could lose himself in the cement jungle, eat whatever he wanted as he had no more blog to upkeep, wear whatever frumpy thing he wanted as there would be nobody staring at him.

The freedom he suddenly had,

It felt terrifying.

  
  


At least at the shelter there were walls closing him in, there was an urgency in the backburner, the need to leave sometime, the knowledge it wasn’t permanent. 

Now, as long as he wasn’t found, Goro could stay all he wanted. Could leave all he wanted. Even his backpack felt a little lighter. Maybe he could find a way to get a new identity, which would be a lot easier if the Sakura girl ( _ Ishiki’s daughter Ishiki’s daughter Ishiki’s- _ ) was someone he had stayed in contact with, but he would manage to get one. Knocking enough doors usually led to someone answering, and while these people weren’t like the ones in Tokyo, (he could only guess by the difference in the atmosphere, the way the air was lighter, saltier, the way the people carried themselves a lot more carefree despite Japan’s general work culture still reigning) needing a new identity was a universal market. 

No matter how the known alternative was tempting, he couldn’t let them know he was alive. Goro Akechi had been a monster, a murderer, still was, and infecting them with more of his poison at the moment wasn’t really in his plans. They deserved to breathe without him, and perhaps he was a little bit selfish, a little bit petty, but for a while Goro wanted something that didn’t keep reminding him over and over of his crimes. 

Maybe he didn’t want to keep staring at those beautiful silver eyes and feeling the crushing numbness that came with having seen all the life drained out of them. 

He felt numb enough.

  
  


The city kept going around him, and only now Goro realised he had been standing there for a while, lost in thought. He shook his head, huffed, and picking a street at random, he began to move. 

Structures of glass, iron and cement stretched as far as he could see, the sun’s rays of the early morning casting them in a soft glow, waking up slowly, steadily, birds chirping at each other from the mass of cables that connected everything. Business opened, people woke up, got up and got out there to work, the fractal painting made out of reds, blues, greys, blacks and greens that was Sumaru moving alongside every step Goro took. 

In a sense, the place was beautiful.

It wasn’t idyllic, there were no cute cottages or fancy castles, only modernity in it’s decadence and ruin, but Goro wasn’t soft either, and he found solace in the familiar sharp angles. 

It wasn’t Tokyo, but he could see himself in between the nooks and crannies of this city, he could see himself waking up to see this spectacle for a long while. He walked steadily, glancing around here and there for a place he could get himself some miso soup for breakfast. Going cash only had been a good choice after all, no calls from banks, no worries from being found out by the men in Shido’s party, no more stupid account name that he recognized to be a joke made on his expense. Just a dead man walking, more than capable of defending himself if someone dared to try and rob him. 

He hadn’t gone soft while at the shelter, his weapons had remained with him the whole time, just better concealed, and not always on his person, yet close enough to get to. 

He could’ve shot the man threatening Nakamura-san. 

But he didn’t for the same reason the man didn’t shoot him, killing someone in the real world meant a lot more strategy than in the Metaverse, where a shadow’s corpse could turn into ash and the real life counterpart kill themselves without a culprit. 

In the real world there was a body to hide, and a lot of trouble afterwards even if the culprit wasn’t caught. He knew so, after all his job had been to cause said trouble ( _ and solve problems for himself _ ). Still, the gun that had accompanied him since the beginning of this strange journey through survival he was going through rested under his green hoodie. 

Just in case.

As for the money, he would have to get both the fake identity, and a job soon. Yes, he had more than enough for a long while, he had believed since the beginning in saving up (when he wasn’t being petty) and Shido paid him very well for his age, but eventually he would run out, and waiting for that to happen was a stupid decision. 

This city was big, very big, so he trusted himself in eventually finding a job, even if it was a part time one. 

The streets filled more and more, and Goro glanced between them as he tightened his ponytail, wondering where they were going, where  _ he _ was going to go. He needed a place to stay, and while he knew he could get a hotel room for the night, he would need to get a place that wouldn’t ask many questions and would just let him stay for the right amount of cash.

He needed to do a lot of things.

He could iron out the details after breakfast though, once enough places opened.

  
  


A place suitable enough showed up after some searching, and he walked in, sitting down at the most tucked away spot in the counter. Alongside him were a few others, focused on their meals, a few open laptops here and there, the feeling of a weekday morning filling his senses. The place was small, tucked away in between many other buildings, but the interior was cozy, and the old woman that managed the place had a mean look and a snarky smile that made Goro feel welcome, even if he wouldn’t admit it. He paid quietly, letting his eyes behind the fake glasses sharpen naturally, scrutinizing.

“You new in the neighborhood, son? Haven’t seen you before.” The woman asked as she finished his order, bringing it over to him. He shrugged, and for once, he let himself keep his expression as sharp and jagged as it naturally was. Inside of him, a voice screamed at him that he couldn’t do that, he had to  _ smile, now, you’re blowing your cover- _ But. He had no cover to blow. There was no audience to disappoint. No Goro Akechi to maintain. He just looked like a tired college student with a baggy green hoodie and a badly done ponytail, with glasses too thick and a resting bitch face. 

“I needed to be here for college, so here I am. I just arrived in the city.” He said as he prepared himself to finally eat something that hopefully would be better than the nasty crepe of the night before. “College, huh. Could’ve fooled me. Major?” He really wanted the conversation to end so he could properly dig in, and he felt impolite if he began in front of her, so he said the first thing that came to mind that wasn’t related to criminal justice after reading up on universities on the train. “..Engineering.”

“Huh. That’s a tough one, kid. Good luck.” The woman gave him a friendly nod, and went back to her own thing, so Goro could finally eat in peace. 

That had been.. surprisingly pleasant.

A bowl of miso soup after, he felt a lot better, his mind clearer. He would have to jump around cheap rooms for a while till he could make up his new identity, but this was a lot better than living in fear in Tokyo, and moving around constantly would cover up his presence a lot better than before. 

Perhaps if he stayed on the low for long enough, he would be forgotten.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face that night. He went to sleep with a feeling of utter  _ relief _ , and woke up with a lightness in his walk that, while it wasn’t the one he had in Tokyo, it felt a lot better than the days before. His parents stared at him with slight disgust at the good energy he emanated, but not even that killed his good mood.

School went by a lot faster, too, and while he didn’t declare anything, instead keeping himself to fiddling with his gloves and sneaking off with Morgana, it seemed as if people could  _ smell _ something good had happened to him. They were staring at him a lot harder than usual, even the teachers noticed him, as he was actually called up to answer a few questions, despite the venom which with the word _Kurusu_ dropped off their lips. He answered well, all of them, to the shock of those around him, but it didn't do much to sway their negative opinion of him. 

However, it didn't bother him as much as the days prior.

It all went well till Akira tried to get out of school grounds, with a good mood that had yet to be killed.

“Yo,  _ Kurusu! _ ” A voice yelled after him, yet he tried to ignore it, swiftly walking towards the gate. The calls to his name got more and more insistent. Akira went faster as a response, almost reaching the metal pass to freedom from Yasogami’s clutches, before a hand grabbed his shoulder and roughly spun him around, making him come face to face with a face he hadn’t seen this close in years.

“Tomoe-san.” He simply declared, keeping his arms lax.  _ He couldn’t afford to fight back if he decided to punch Akira. Not now, when his definitive freedom was only months away, when he had finally found a sliver of hope in this wretched town. _

Dark brown eyes narrowed in anger, a small little grin settling on his face when he saw Akira wasn’t trying to do anything. “Something good happened, Kurusu?” The words were laced with venom.

There was a tense second, but Akira wasn’t that scared. Annoyed, maybe. Angry, that’s for sure. But he had been through worse.

“I asked you something. What, you deaf now? As if you weren’t a freak before.”

The hands on him tightened.

“What, you’re all tough now after you lived in Tokyo? You think you’re better than us?”

He had yet to answer, simply staring defiantly.

“We thought we got rid of you. You’re making us all look bad, y’know. They’re pussies and won’t say shit, but we want you out. Fuck off, back to your little juvie cell or wherever the fuck they kept you last year.” Tomoe’s hands were shaking as he held Akira.

So, seeing Tomoe wasn’t exactly the most hardened of bullies, he decided to take the chance, and do something stupid.

“Sorry, what did you say? I got distracted by your beautiful face.”

Tomoe made a double take, utterly thrown off his element, and dropped Akira, face contorted in utter disgust. 

“ _ God, you’re disgusting _ .” He spat out, and put distance between them, cleaning his hands on his uniform. “Just..  _ God! _ ” He yelled, as if it physically pained him having touched someone like him. “Get out of Inaba, Kurusu. Go be a freak somewhere else, I don’t give a shit, just get out.”

The reaction both made Akira want to laugh. and pained him. The burden on his back was back there, so was the heaviness in his chest. Yet, at the same time, it amused him how easily the boy had folded. Tomoe walked away, but the stares from the others remained, hard on Akira, disapproving, different levels of rejection thrown his way. 

People didn’t dare raise another hand towards him, though, as if they all collectively had remembered that Akira had been arrested for  _ assault _ , for physical violence. Public rejection and mean words could hurt a lot more than violence, after all. 

They didn’t need to touch him to cause harm.

His face was back to being blank, and he stood a little straighter, defiant once more, channeling the Akechi he knew he had in somewhere. 

At least he had the gloves to help the image.

  
  
  
  
  


That afternoon, he was back at Junes. It wasn’t as if he had anything better to do, and neither him nor Morgana wanted to stray too far away from the safety of his bedroom that day, but they didn’t want to be back at that house either, as Akira’s parents would be around. 

In Morgana’s case, he was mortified. Angry at Akira, for having risked his bodily integrity for a stupid joke, angry at the bullies that surrounded them both, angry at not being able to do anything to help Akira other than just being a passive observer. He couldn’t even claw someone’s eyes out, in fear of being found out and separated from his best friend. All he could do was watch, and it pained Morgana deeply. In a hushed voice, as Akira carried him to Junes, he told him that he loved him, that someone cared, and that they just needed to have hope for a little longer. Akira offered him a weak smile, but it was obvious the events of before had taken a toll on him. His phone had a lot of messages, too, but he had yet to answer any of them.

The video that played on one of the tvs displayed showed a music video Akira was too familiar with: pastel colors, neon lights and retro imagery surrounding a singer talking (mutedly) about how she was going through absolute hell. He found it hilarious.

Next to him, he could hear someone humming the song under their breath. A little taken aback, Akira turned his head, only to find himself with a familiar silhouette. A lean figure, silky silver hair, a relaxed posture, his hands inside his pockets, sharp grey eyes staring at the video in front of them. His broad shoulders were accentuated by the sharp angles of his black jacket, the collar that was slightly popped up making those lines more obvious, vertical lines that gave his figure structure and let it be known he was more than okay with being looked at. 

He looked so.. comfortable with himself.

Once again, Akira felt blinded by the sheer beauty of the stranger ( _ someone like me, someone like me, someone like me!! _ ) next to him. Okay, he could easily talk to him then and there. How hard could it be? It was literally just a young man. Just that!

Said man quickly glanced at Akira with a welcoming smile, after he realised he was being stared at. 

“You know that band.” He blurted out. 

“I do.” He raised his eyebrows, giving Akira a little grin. 

“They,” He cleared his throat. Okay, Kurusu,  _ focus, don’t say dumb shit.  _ “They’re pretty good.”

The stranger smiled a little wider, obviously amused by the exchange. “They are, I went to see them a few years ago.”

“Oh. Cool.”  _ Amazing conversational skills, Kurusu. Wonderful. A true master of words right there. Try again, say something else before he leaves, damnit! Talk about the band, or ask something or- _

“I, uh. I saw you and your..” He trailed off.

“You saw me and my partner the other day. Yeah, I remember you.” The stranger looked even more amused, moving to face Akira fully. “I can’t say I know your name, though.”

“Akira.” He stood up a little straighter, trying to get confidence from somewhere and not look like a complete idiot in front of this man who looked cooler and cooler by the second. He ditched the surname for the moment, as he really didn’t want his family name attached for this moment. And if the stranger thought he was being overly familiar, oh well.

But- the silver haired stranger gave him a thinking nod, and then proceeded to go for the western greeting, offering him a hand to shake. Akira stared at it for a second, finding the gesture a little surprising, but clasped it anyways. 

The moment he did so, something rang through Akira. 

It wasn’t a jolt of excitement, or a feeling of dread, or magnetism. It was a loud, deep  **_familiarity_ ** , as if he had just met someone he could count on, someone who could have his back now and always, a brother he never knew he had before. 

He raised his eyebrows, and stared back at the man, who also looked slightly shocked, but quickly smoothed it over, his smile turning a little more genuine. The grip was firm,  _ warm _ , the skin softer than Akira had expected, and the movements precise as they shook once and let go. 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Akira-kun.” Even the way he said his name felt  _ warm _ , and Akira’s chest began filling with the excitement of meeting someone worthwhile, the solidified desire to be friends with this man. “I’m Yu Narukami.” 

That name.. also felt familiar. Actually familiar, as if he had heard about it before.  _ Where, though?  _

“You go to Yasogami?” The ma- _ Yu _ inquired, giving Akira a once over, posture still as confident as before. At the name he felt himself tense up immediately, a grimace trying to break through his features, which he quickly suppressed the moment it began to form. 

“Yeah, I’m a third year.” He swore he saw the man’s eyes sharpening slightly, but he offered Akira a happy smile, putting his hands back in his pockets. “I went there too, actually! For a year, but still. The exams there are tough, huh?” 

_ I’d say the bullying is harder, but to each their own, huh!  _ Is what he wanted to say. Instead, he silently nodded, glancing at the floor. 

“Oh no, did I strike a nerve there?” Yu let out an apologetic chuckle. 

_ Oh shit he thinks he made you sad, no, wait-  _ “No! No. you just reminded me of the amount of work I have to do and I’m procrastinating on.” He shrugged.

“Hey, I used to procrastinate around here too, with my partner. No judgement here.” The mention of the word  _ partner _ made Akira feel a little lighter once more.

He could take a risk, based on the familiarity he felt before. He just hoped it didn’t backfire.

“Maybe I’m actually surveying the area so I can later rob the store, instead of having a romantic rendezvous.” He wiggled his eyebrows. 

“Please do, people need some excitement around here.” The man swiftly replied, and Akira wondered why he had been so worried before.

“I’ll finish my supervillain costume and get back to you. I already have the tragic backstory done.”

“Oh? Tell me more.”

“There’s only so many managers that can be asked for before he snapped. Someone said the bigger TV should be at the same price as the smallest. Someone ate a whole cabbage at the produce section. A child threw a bottle of wine all over the floor and the mother berated him instead of the child. He’d had enough. There couldn’t be any more customer service if there was no service to serve.” He said in a completely neutral tone, staring at the man.

There was silence for a second, before Yu cracked up, laugh mostly silent except by a few wheezes. Akira followed, laughing himself, shoulders shaking up and down with the relatable mental image of a tired retail worker finally having enough and snapping.

“That’s not a villain, that’s a hero!” A third voice said behind the both of them, and the moment he turned to see who it was, Akira was blinded once more by a sunny grin. Yu’s partner, the one with the gorgeous tanned skin and the freckles all over was looking at him. “I was stuck for years in customer service, kid, I know the pain.” he exclaimed as he put an arm around Yu’s waist. “Buut, I’m gonna be the thief now, and steal partner away, if you don’t mind! We’re running late for a meeting with some friends.” He began pulling him away as he said that, and Yu followed, throwing a glance back at Akira. 

“You’re a fun kid, Akira-kun. See you around?” 

He could simply nod, giving him a soft smile as they walked out of the store, the partner’s voice loudly lamenting how “Yukiko and Chie were going to kill them for being this late”, and how he was “sorry for being this late, dad wouldn’t stop talking.”

  
  


He really wanted to see Yu again. 

* * *

"Ah, shit." Yosuke turned his head towards his Partner, who had an annoyed look on his face. "Hm?"

"I forgot to ask for the kid's number." Yosuke stared at him, curious about why he wanted a random highschool kid's number of all things. Yeah, he had seen the kid around and all, but he didn't know why exactly Yu wanted to talk to him. "Uh, what for?"

"Ah, right, you didn't touch him. He has a persona." He said simply, way too simply, before he went back to stirring the pot of noodles he was making for Yukiko, Chie, Yosuke and himself. As for Yosuke, his mouth flew open, a sense of excitement, curiosity and slight apprehension washing over him. He moved away from leaning against Chie's kitchen counter.

"Whoa, whoa-  **_hold on_ ** .  **_He has a persona?_ ** " He exclaimed.

"Yup. Pretty powerful, too. Also he looks like he really needs a friend or something right now. Pass me the strainer?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up on sunlight:  
> things are alright? Maybe. Possibly. Who knows.
> 
> Yu: yeah lol kid has persona  
> Yosuke: *blinking white guy meme*


	7. chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start going somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW!!! THERE'S GORE THIS CHAPTER!!!  
> BIG BOY CHAPTER INCOMING!!!  
> Can you catch the cameos this time?   
> There's no Akira this chapter :( but there's still some Inaba!

His back ached. His head was killing him, the burning sensation of exhaustion finally catching up and settling deep in his frame the further he tried to get in a comfortable sleeping position.

He hated this.

  
  
  
  


It turned out not everything could be bought with a sweet enough smile. 

Goro had spent his day mapping out as much as he could before it became dark, walking through the mass of concrete and steel, trying to remember divisions and transitions, the hostility of some areas and the welcoming calm of others, where the population was the thickest, where it seemed to begin dwindling. He knew he wouldn’t be able to explore its entirety in a day if he wanted to be thorough in his assessment. Distances made it impossible, but he needed a place to stay, and as little questions as possible, and while a love hotel was an option, he truly wanted some other option before resorting to that. The flinch his whole body produced at the mere sight of those kinds of establishments made him want to actively avoid them as much as possible. 

They made him see a tub overflowing with red.

  
  


Time’s arrow kept going, and Goro had mapped out with the help of his burner phone and at least three instances of walking in circles through the same web of alleyways, a small section of the city, with enough population density he could slip by unnoticed, and close enough to the shop he had had breakfast so he could indulge himself some more in, admittedly, the best miso soup he’s had in a long time. As he followed the sea of people that quickly grew as time went by, he felt a bit like a shadow.

Not even once had anyone turned to stare at him, even glanced at him a second time, not even when Goro moved a little more erratically, as his back began to hurt.

That.. was new.

This was the first time he had moved so much since Maruki’s palace, and back then the pure fury and need to keep going, the resolve of a newer, better,  _ faster _ ,  _ greater _ persona had kept him burning, moving swiftly from place to place, breaking into little pieces anything that crossed his path. Even squished in that abomination of a helicopter Morgana had turned into, he didn’t seem to remember feeling any sharp, stabbing pain. 

When he had woken up, he hadn’t felt much either, as the hysteria to leave town, to hide, to  _ not get caught _ had replaced most of his cognition of pain. With Chiyo-san at the shelter, he hadn’t moved much, he had even begun taking a few naps in the day to recharge, from the sheer exhaustion he constantly felt. Cleaning was only a bit physically taxing, nothing he would notice.

So, apparently he had something wrong, and it was either new, or he was just now feeling it. He exited the course of people flowing through the main street, slipped from one side street into a more secluded alley, and moved to lean against a large structure, not bothering to check exactly where he was leaning, only that he wanted to look for something, and perhaps rest his back a little. Glancing around furtively only to remind himself nobody cared anymore, he proceeded to run a gloved up his back, searching. 

_ Huh. _

There was a large patch of raised skin on one of the sides of his lower back, traveling up almost to his core.

Well, there went any chance of him returning to be a starlet. With his avoidance of full body mirrors ever since his miraculous resurrection, his spiraling thoughts, the running, the anger at seeing himself on a surface, the want to shatter it in a million pieces and scream at death to finish its  **_goddamn job-_ ** he hadn’t noticed the scar. The ugly, marred piece of flesh that now decorated him and consolidated as truly, a dead man walking.

Emphasis on walking.

  
  
  
  


Maruki took too much pride in his sense of aesthetics to ever ruin Goro like this.

  
  
  
  
  


He let his hand go, flop down and out of the green hoodie, and the back of his head collided against a hard metallic surface as he looked up at the reddening sky.

_ He was so  _ **_tired_ ** _. _

He let his lips go up slightly, a painful soft smile as tried to send a telepathic message to any God or Goddess or that Kashima guy, or whoever the fuck was controlling the sky at that moment.

_ “Since you refuse to let me die, what now? What the  _ **_fuck_ ** _ am I supposed to do now?” _

…

What would he have done after defeating Shido?

_ You wouldn’t have been able to, the man already knew you before you even said your first hello. _

But his plan. He hadn’t known Shido already knew him. So, he obviously had planned as if he would've been the victor.

But.. the plan stopped there. At the reveal, at the humiliation.

At the leap off of a building.

At the murder suicide.

At the inside of a ship.

At the promise to Akira.

At the fight against a mad doctor.

At the lack of any true goals.

His back sent him a dull throb of pain when he tried to stretch it after having walked this much for the first time in a long while. He rolled his eyes at his own body, and willed it to move anyways. Looking back in lackluster curiosity at the building he had collapsed against before, he found himself with a small surprise. 

Staring back at him was the entrance to a theater and live music bar, the only indication of it being so being, first of all, the menu. But then there was a list of performers on the small glass screen against the black metal wall which also displayed local ads, time and locations for differing courses and classes outside of, yet backed up by, the theater, meeting times for conferences on artistic endeavours and subtle, yet not so subtle, invitations for marginalized communities to mingle. 

_ Huh, would you look at that. _

**“Sumaru Prison”** the building read, with a smaller font saying  **“breaking free since 2004”** in perfectly written English.

They had jazz nights on thursdays.

Maybe he could check them out. After all, he hadn’t faked his interest in jazz ( _ one of the only things he hadn’t- _ ), and his days at the rehab center had left him missing those evenings where he could sit back, relax, and enjoy himself. 

As he took note of the location of the place, he recalled the moment he invited Akira to Jazz Jin for the first time.

It had actually been a spur of the moment, born out of a want to.. _ know _ , the man he was going to kill. Nothing less, nothing more.

The urge to keep being around him, to talk, debate, was nothing other than wanting to know what made the golden boy so golden, a desire born out of hatred, envy and anger.

It was all Goro knew, to  _ despise _ , to  _ want _ , to  _ consume _ .

And Akira, _ precious, gorgeo _ \-  **_trashy, despicable, horrible, I can’t stand him, the piece of shit-_ ** was a worthy research subject.

He wanted to know if they were opposites in tastes as well as in goals, or if they shared anything there.

For all Goro knew, Akira despised jazz, and only listened to the top 40, like a simpleton.

But his silver eyes had widened at the voice of the singer, his fingers tapped along the music, a soft smile had threatened to grace his features, and in that moment, mostly enveloped by darkness and only illuminated by the furthest wisps of golden light, Goro gave into the selfish urge to rest his knee against Akira’s own. After all, they had gotten closer so both could watch the singer at a better angle, so it would be natural they touched somehow.

He expected, after indulging in that touch, for Akira to recoil.

Instead, what he got back was a calm, horrifyingly sweet smile, and the warmth of Akira’s leg loosely wrapping against his own.

They didn’t move for a while, even after the performance had ended, continuing their little match of wits while their legs rested together, neither commenting on it. 

It had been.. nice. 

He didn't know what to feel about it. 

What to feel about the crown of blood, the silver eyes, the red gloves, the attractive smile, the hatred and the numbness that now encased it all.

He really needed to stop thinking about Akira.

Maybe get a new therapist in Sumaru, too. 

Willing the memory away before he dwelled too much on it, Goro got out of the alleyway and went in search of a small, unassuming hotel he had mapped out before. It truly lived to the adjective of small, he noted as he walked in, noticing the amount of crochet pieces that decorated the front desk, the shelves behind it, the stair’s rails, and anywhere else it could, as if what managed the place was a very diligent spider making web after web instead of a human being.

The spider, it seemed, was a sweet old lady, who raised her head to look at him when he walked closer, offering him a smile so full of warmth Goro felt Chiyo-san finally had some competition. He had the urge to return one so full of the sugary sludge of fakeness it would pass onto her and make her choke to death with it, just because she seemed so genuine.

“Good evening.” 

“Hello there, dear. How can I help you?” Her eyes focused on his own, and she put down her knitting for a moment. He found himself staring back at an ice wall.

...On second thought, perhaps she already produced her own sugary sludge.

  
  


The moment he accepted the key, he regretted it. The bed looked so thin, such an uncomfortable mattress, right there over the floor. The bathroom smelt like a mixture of burnt cookies and formaldehyde, and the moving space was so small Goro could see all of it without moving his head once. He asked the woman if there was any other room he could get, mainly because of the smell. He even put his fakest, sweetest grin he could muster, in order to butter her up.

She wasn't impressed.

"It's the only room we have available in such short notice, dear, and the only one available at this price range."  _ You want a better room? Pay up. _

"Oh, well, I was just notifying you of the possibly hazardous materials that could be there."  _ I can easily report you for this. Give me another room. I'm not paying shit.  _

They smiled at each other a little wider.

"Well, thank you very much. I'll have someone looking at it tomorrow, as it's a little late for someone to come in. We're a small business, after all, and emergency repair fees can get a little expensive."  _ You're either sleeping here or you get out, I don't care.  _

He accepted the room. 

His back ached. His head was killing him, the burning sensation of exhaustion finally catching up and settling deep in his frame the further he tried to get in a comfortable sleeping position. 

He hated this, but he'd have to wait till the following day to get something better, perhaps a little more permanent. There was the identity issue, too, getting a new one was going to prove to be a challenge, but he could look around in the less known parts of the internet for the beginning of the search. 

He turned again. He couldn't sleep.

He missed his bed. 

He missed the cafe. He missed his miserable existence, or at least the security that the next day was going to be as shitty as the last. Even the white palace and the security he was going to die the next day was better than a shitty hotel bed in the middle of an unknown city with so much freedom Goro felt he was going to choke in it.

Even as he fell asleep, he couldn’t stop the hollow feeling inside of him.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


A white ceiling welcomed him, and cold settled on his limbs, the sterile smell that surrounded him making it even more noticeable.

He supposed it was fitting, for the palace of a newly made God, to also alter dreams.

He clutched his head between his hands, finding there was no helmet in between the gloves and his caramel hair. That was a little odd, but perhaps he had thrown the helmet off of him in frustration before being knocked out. It wouldn’t be the first time, after all.

He hadn't considered the Phantom Thieves capable of leaving him behind in the greatest mission of his reawakened life, a mission to bring back the world that truly belonged to them and the continuation of his eternal slumber, but that seemed to be the case, as when he rose up with difficulty and walked around, he saw he was alone. There was no worried Joker, none of the other fools that had accompanied them. Only memories of a strange dream and a muffled noise that kept playing inside his head.  _ What had that even been about?  _

Therapy? Tea with old women who actually enjoyed his company? The possibility that he could be anything else than a rotten carcass somewhere in the Metaverse? 

_ Ridiculous. _

  
  


He wasn't anything else than unrepentant violence, hatred was so deeply buried inside his veins it made up entirely who Goro was, and it seemed as if the Phantom Thieves had finally realised that.

So, he began walking in the white expanse.

And kept walking.

And walking.

All that greeted him was further white, and a suspicious lack of shadows.

Frustration, the heavy stone in the middle of his chest that left him unable to breathe properly, made him let out a loud groan. Yet, he kept going.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


And going.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


If the Thieves had been cowardly enough to leave the palace for the warped reality instead of simply abandoning him, he was going to rip out all of their throats. 

He was going to start with Joker, 

_ Akira _ ,

  
  


the one who had promised him they were going to 

  
  


_ fight  _ **_together_ ** , 

and now had left him behind. 

  
  


_ Goro was no longer a puppet to toy around with _ . 

Akira had made a promise, and he was going to fulfill it, or Goro would beat him up till he was puking out blood. 

Maybe he still would even if Joker had the best arguments on why he had been left behind in the middle of fuck knows where in the palace, 

  
  


as a warning 

  
  


to not leave him behind again.

  
  


He felt powerless, 

  
  


_ humiliated _ , 

the more he walked. His steps felt heavier, his back had even started to hunch. And yet, nothing.

  
  


Maybe they had all died in battle, 

  
  
  
  


and he was the last one left standing.

  
  
  
  


Maybe they were all knocked out.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


...He didn’t know why the thought worried him, yet the still unfamiliar tingle of  _ worry _ invaded his skull, and made his steps faster. 

  
  
  


White kept greeting him. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A hand moved to drag against the wall as he kept going, 

searching perhaps for a button he had missed, a mechanism that would get him out of the seemingly endless white corridor. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


However, he didn’t have to wait for too long after that, as the corridor took a sharp right turn. 

  
  


Finally, a change of surroundings! 

His back straightened once more, his posture, which had never left the spectrum of alert, tightened once more, and he willed the chains in his outfit to shut up completely in response to the oddly expansive silence.

  
  
  
  
  


However, no matter how much he readied himself, he hadn’t expected the sight that greeted him. 

  
  
  


In the endless white expanse, laid a black stain.

Thrown as if he was nothing but a lifeless puppet was Jok- **_Akira_ ** , laying over a puddle of his own blood, dark red fluid staining the floor’s cracks. The thief’s face took a while to be recognized by Goro’s shocked eyes, as what was there didn’t seem to resemble a human being at all, the mass of disfigured flesh slowly spilling out from the cracked skull, drop by drop. The clothing, too, was a mess, torn in some places, completely gone in others, but no matter how much Goro tried to focus his eyes on anything else but the face, the contours of his body remained unclear. The stench of blood took the next second to hit him, making him feel nauseated and dizzy by the sheer strength of it, laced by the vomitingly sweet scent of decay that wafted off the mawled features.

And then, he dared look up.

Over the body of his  **_enemyrivalfriendcrushpersonhumanbeingvictim-_ ** was his  **_persona_ ** . 

Which, Goro wasn’t exactly sure. 

The braids and stripes pointed at Loki, yet the color scheme was Robin Hood’s, and the face details were Hereward’s. The creature seemed to be feasting on Joker’s body, grabbing piece after piece and consuming it without a single care, the monstrosity digging its claws, long, sharp,  _ horrible _ , into the flesh and tearing, the wet sounds making Goro want to cover his ears, yet his limbs didn’t seem to cooperate.

Instead, his own legs walked him closer. 

The being looked down at its master, at the poor joke of a human being that stood down there, and all it did, was laugh at him.

The noise was loud, high pitched, a shriek that rang all over the room and made Goro’s ears feel as if they were about to burst.

“ **_FUCK!_ ** ” He heard his own voice shout back, and the wincing made him have to tightly close his eyes.

The darkness made the screaming stop, but just in case, he kept his eyes closed just a while further. Once he was sure the silence would remain, he dared open a single eye to look down at the floor. He found himself staring back at a pool of dark red. Opening both, he jumped back, his whole body tensing, raising his hands towards his face to steady himself, finding relief in knowing he could freely move his limbs once more. 

His gloves were covered in blood.

So was the rest of his outfit.

Yet his mind felt suddenly numb.

It was as if the shriek had emptied him out, voided him, made him vomit right back out the small semblance of humanity he had seemed to gain all of a sudden just a few moments before. He licked his lips, as they felt dry.

They tasted like copper.

A hand came to lay on his shoulder, but he didn’t look back at it, he already knew who it was.

“I don’t think people can change, you know. 

You can run away from your own problems all you want, scream, cry, even beg for forgiveness. It doesn’t take away from the fact you’re still rotten at your core.

Dying made you a tragic little hero in their eyes.  _ If only you’ve had more time, either in the past or in the present, maybe then you would’ve turned out differently _ . 

But we know differently, 

**_don’t we?_ ** ” Akira’s voice purred right against Goro’s ear, as he tried to get his hands into stopping the shaking.

“You’re a fucking parasite, your mere presence ruins everything nearby. Look, even without killing! You destroyed a whole business that ran for decades. You brought the men that followed you right into an innocent woman’s life work, then left like a coward.” A dark chuckle left his lips, and Goro turned his head around, if only to grab the creature wearing Akira’s face and make it shut up, his hands gripping his arms so harshly if the thing was human, it would leave bruises.

The yellow eyes only got brighter, and the wicked smile wider.

  
  


“I wonder if they’ll kick her head so hard while trying to get her to say where you went, it’ll spill her brain all over the floor.”

“Fuck you.” Goro snarled. “They won’t.”

“Are you sure, honey?”

He was shaking.

“They won’t!”

“You wouldn’t be hurting so much if you just kept murdering. If you owned up to the fact you’re nothing but a monster.”

He punched the thing without even realising he had done it, but all it did was stumble backwards, blinking a bit in confusion. Then, he broke out in laughter, and charged right back towards Goro.

He didn’t register how he was shoved right on top of the mauled Akira, or how he was hit on the head, but his world went black.

  
  


* * *

His body felt even worse when he woke up. He had to take a few seconds to collect himself, and get enough energy to pry his body off of the floor. 

Everything hurt, his shoulder especially, as the moment he laid his hand on top of it, he felt as if he had just burned himself. 

Great.

At least now he could escape this place. As he turned on the phone to check the time, he began reviewing his options. He was out in the middle of Sumaru City, without an identity, without a job, and without anyone to answer to.

Goro Akechi had died, forgotten, to never come back up. The people looking after him would ideally take a while to locate him. It had been surprisingly easy before, but now he had taken enough measures to not be found. Maybe he’d never be found. 

So what came afterwards when death wasn’t an option and neither was going back?

How could he protect himself under enough layers of bullshit to get an airtight alibi in case anyone noticed his face and the kid on tv’s were a bit too similar?

What if he was still being watched and they hadn’t fully identified him yet?

He gathered his things, checked if the backpack hadn’t been tampered with while he was asleep. Checked if the gun was still there, and the money, which he still had on his person but he couldn’t afford to be careless.

Maybe he was actually saying the truth when he talked to that woman at the ramen shop. In a small fit of amusement, he realised so far, since his resurrection, he had mostly spoken to old ladies. 

Well, maybe for a while he could play the part of a college student.

_ So boring. So dull, you could be doing so much better. _

He needed to lay low.

_ Are you going to spend the rest of your life laying low and doing what, cleaning houses and getting a degree? _

It felt so..mundane. Disgust flooded his expression.

He had done everything he had, only for this.

A dingy room in a strange city.

He almost wanted to laugh, but instead he took a deep breath, and left the hotel, towards a new goal: looking for a new mask to assume, a new role to play.

Goro Akechi ( _ No, not Akechi, you’ll need a new name, you know. _ So far he had introduced himself with surnames he came up on the spot, at one point even borrowing the name Shirogane, like the detective prince before him,  _ who actually did a good job and wasn’t a monster like himself- _ ), the engineering student. He had little idea about the career, but it was  _ out of character _ , enough to slip through the cracks and not be noticed too much. It would be dreadful and boring, and something he had a complete lack of talent towards, but that was even better. He couldn’t possibly be the Ace detective if he absolutely sucked at what he was doing. He could even sneak in a few classes of something he was actually interested in, too. 

It wasn’t a solid plan, it was barely a plan  _ at all _ , but Goro hated the alternative idea,

that from the beginning his whole life ended with a suicide.

So, excuse him, he was a little desperate to grasp some sense of a plan. And if that included looking unsuspicious on college grounds while Shido’s agents tracked his ass down, so it would be.

  
  
  
  
  


And that’s how Goro found himself staring at the gates of a university building. He had taken the time to get an alternative from the already too well known green hoodie, and changed into a light blue sweater instead, something familiar enough, yet so tacky he wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing it back in his detective prince days.

People around him didn’t spare him a glance, and to Goro it still felt slightly foreign, being unknown. He walked through the campus like a shadow, going from corridor to corridor, head held high, as if he knew  _ exactly _ where he was going, and _ no, he was not going to tell you. _ After a bit of searching, he finally found the timetables for engineering, in between the sea of STEM majors taught in the university.

It all looked so  _ boring _ .

But it’d have to do.

The rest of the day was spent hatching a plan, if it could be called that, getting some more soup, looking for new accommodations, and googling basic engineering lingo.

  
  
  
  


Before he knew it, it was Friday. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The lecture hall slowly got filled with students, a sea of grey hoodies and black sweaters, brown jackets and the occasional daring red jumper. There were a lot more people than Goro had estimated in a class like this, and a lot sharper dressed than he expected, too. Math wasn't exactly the most popular subject according to every single piece of media ever for a reason, and while STEM had its superiority complex and recruiting propaganda, math and physics were still something not a lot of people partook in, even if this was just an introductory course. He didn't feel out of place in his light blue sweater and jeans, he even felt a little underdressed next to the blonde girl with a sharp, elegant turtleneck and perfectly fitting slacks who had sat next to him. She reminded him of Takamaki, with those plump pink lips and silky blonde waves, green eyes instead of blue staring at her purse as she searched for her things, long acrylic nails expertly plucking things out, revealing complex mathematics in neat, curvy handwriting. 

She noticed his staring, and simply offered him a polite smile, which he quickly returned, bowing his head lightly to acknowledge her. 

"I haven’t seen you around before! First day?" She asked, and her words had a slight accent. 

"Yes, I'm not exactly sure what I'm getting myself into." He let out a charming little giggle. 

"Oh, don't worry! This is actually my third year with this teacher? I had him in other subjects before this one, and he's always explained things very clearly. And besides, if you have any trouble you can ask me, uh.." 

  
  


"Amamiya." Akechi replied. 

  
  
  


"Amamiya! I'm Schwartz. Julia Schwartz." Oh, a foreigner indeed. "It's a pleasure to meet you." She smiled wider, nodding her head at him, then turned back to looking at the front of the hall, because it was almost time for the class to begin. She reminded him so much more of Takamaki once she spoke, and Goro’s thoughts immediately went to the blonde.

She had given him an olive branch, in a way he truly hadn’t expected from anyone besides the idiot of Akira Kurusu who didn’t seem to understand that murderers shouldn’t be associated with. She had been pretty kind, offering him to go on an outing with her, to hang out. When he snarled back at her that he didn’t need pity, all she did was furrow her eyebrows with a mocking smile and a tilt of her head.

“I’m not pitying you? I’m just offering.” She even dared to laugh at him when he questioned her intentions, as if they were completely obvious. Goro still had no idea what exactly she wanted out of him, they had already stomped over his pride, defeated him, robbed him from any life purpose and all he had wanted back there was the sweet release of death.

It’s not like he could ask now, either.

He snapped back to reality, right in time.

All the usual noise from talking students silenced itself the moment the teacher walked in. Goro had been checking his things, making sure he looked as normal as possible in between the sea of people, as he really didn't need to stand out, when he felt the change in the air. 

He looked up, and had to do a double take at the man before his eyes.

He had seen a lot of attractive men in his life, he had known he was gay from a very young age for that very same reason. But even then, every time he saw someone that reminded him just  _ how beautiful  _ men could be, he had to take a moment to regain his breath. 

The man that walked in demanded attention without saying a single word, in the way his head lifted up and assessed the crowd, gaze cold and calculating, expression just as freezing. 

Cat-like eyes that were sharp and alert, impossibly long lashes framing them and giving the illusion of permanent eyeliner, a narrow and delicate nose, face all sharp menacing angles contrasted with angelic details, and the hint of expression lines giving away he had lived for too long, and maybe seen a little too much along his life. Jet black hair threatened to curl over one of his eyes, but it didn’t seem to bother him, nor break the elegantly imposing image he carried himself with. 

  
  


_ Damn, in the most platonic and respectful way possible. _ He didn’t have any romantic interest in the man, but the beauty was more than appreciated.

  
  
  


( _ Goro, in the back of his mind, prayed to any supernatural being that Akira would age like this, because- even if he wouldn't admit it out loud- _

_ Akira was gorgeous as a seventeen year old, and more than once Goro had felt hot under the collar staring at his teasing joker grin. If he aged like this teacher, he would be heart stopping at thirty. _

  
  


_ He still thought about it sometimes, the moment the studio's lights fell on a head of angelic black curls and the most striking silver eyes he had ever seen, full of a fire that threatened to consume Goro whole. The way he smirked so sensually, as if beckoning him, both an invitation for a fight and for a little more. The way what he said basically boiled down to "Fuck the police" didn't help the heat in the pit of his stomach either. _

_ Kurusu, in all his obnoxious golden child glory, despite being nothing but absolute  _ **_trash_ ** _ , was a sight to behold, he could admit that. That didn't stop Goro from wanting to bash his head against something from the absolute envy he had towards him, though. _ )

And when Goro thought the man couldn’t get more attractive, he spoke. A deep, collected voice that pulled everyone in, and made the most boring math possible seem absolutely fascinating. The man could’ve easily formed a cult then and there, because the more Goro looked around, the more faces he saw staring back at him with various degrees of interest, yet none of them had looked away. He had passion in what he taught, as he spoke radiantly of it, and before Goro knew it, he was actually taking notes. He hadn’t sat very far from the man, so it was actually beneficial for his cover to actually write something down. Did he have any idea of what was going on? No, not really, he had been very good at highschool math, but this was a lot more advanced than what he had seen. Still, he took notes.

He seemed to know the people in the class, too, or at least some of them, as he addressed them by name, and patiently answered the questions shot his way, a ghost of a smile sweetening his glacial features. 

He had yet to even glance at Goro’s particular direction, so that meant he had succeeded in blending in with the others, which gave him a slight relief.

Except when he did. Almost at the end of the hour, and after having given the class a simple sheet with examples from the formulas he had been talking about before, he asked for the students to bring it back to him, and they were free to leave right after. Having little idea of what exactly he was doing, Goro was one of the last to finish, because his need to constantly be perfect in all academic matters was getting to him, and he wanted to  _ prove _ to prettyman professor right there that he wasn’t pathetic enough to fail at the first assignment. 

After tweaking as much as possible till he was moderately satisfied, he finally rose from his seat, and proceeded to bring it to the teacher. The man glanced at Goro and gave him a sweet smile, proceeding to take the paper. 

The moment their fingers touched, however, all traces of a smile were gone. 

It was sudden, the shiver that ran through Goro, the sensation of absolute  **_familiarity_ ** , yet coated with uneasiness and hostility, a cocktail that was heavy to swallow and left him blinking a few times to properly collect himself. It seemed he wasn’t the only one affected, as when he looked back up, those red tinted brown eyes were staring right through him. They narrowed slightly, one partially covered by silky black hair, and focused entirely on him for less than a second. Absolute hostility embodied in a man, something that left Goro feeling as if he was staring right through a mirror, and left him feeling entirely out of place.

But just as it came it left, dissolving into a disarming soft smile.

“Thank you. You’re free to leave.”

He left with a lot more questions than answers.

* * *

  
  


"Okay, so, let me get this straight." Yosuke began, as they all sat down to eat. 

"No homo." His partner deadpanned back, and he didn't know whether to kill him or laugh. Chie tried to stifle an ugly snort, her girlfriend not hiding her grin in the slightest, but trying not to laugh. "Hilarious. Anyways!" Yukiko got in-between them to serve herself some tea. "This kid has a persona, yeah?" A muffled affirmation could be heard coming from Yu, as he began to help himself to the noodles. "So.. you think they were right? About the phantom thieves thing."

"Possibly, yeah. Maybe the tv world reformed and that's how they did it."

He let out a laugh. 

"Man, you're telling me I owe Junpei money?" His partner tilted his head slightly, inquiring. Oh, he hadn't told Yu about the silly bet he had made back at the base.

"If it turned out the phantom thieves were yet another group of highschool kids with personas having no idea what they're doing, I owed him two thousand yen." 

"Aren't we always groups of highschool kids having no idea what we're doing at first?"

They had been just that, hadn’t they. It had been so long, Yosuke sometimes forgot just how inexperienced he was back then. How insecure. How taxing the whole ordeal had been for him and his friends. 

So much had happened afterwards, so many friendships broke and reformed (especially their relationship with Kanji and by consequence, Naoto, which had gone through a huge variety of phases and only now resembled a solid bond after a lot of water under the bridge), so many insecurities were brought up to the surface and worked on, so many christmases and new years with family then without them, then back with family again. New insecurities, new problems to tackle. Yu’s personal issues, his own, their relationship.

Oh man, they’d been through a lot.

"Well, yeah, but maybe the gods finally got creative and waited a few years to fuck stuff up." In response, Yu gently nudged his hand. "We're too busy doing taxes to save the world, that's the problem."

“Hey, if you’re going to waste money at least use it to visit us more often! You guys are never around nowadays!” Chie exclaimed, mid noodle bite. 

“Sorry, we’re swamped with work back in Tokyo.” Yu answered for him, with a little smile.

“Yeah yeah, with your fancy city life and all.” there was no bite in Chie’s words, just a teasing little grin. 

“You could visit us too, y’know. And not when it’s an emergency.” Yosuke had no bite in his words, either.

“It is my fault, mostly. The inn has me chained down most of the year since it started getting more customers. Which is a good thing, but not so good when you really want a break.” Yukiko turned to Chie. “Perhaps during the down season this year? We could try squeezing in a trip to Tokyo.”

“Oh, oh- that’s a great idea, princess! No promises, tho.”

She rolled her eyes at the nickname, looking away with a soft grin. “We’ll see what we can do. But uh, weren’t we talking about the phantom thieves before?”

“Oooh yeah! I forgot. So! Yu. Any plans with the kid? You gonna try to recruit him?”

Yu shrugged. “He looks lonely here. I was mostly planning on hanging out. If he wants to join us he can, but I’m not going to pressure him.”

“Huh, well, if you think that’s the best course of action, I’m gonna support you.”

* * *

**Artistic gymnastics:**

Artistic gymnastics is a discipline of gymnastics in which athletes perform short routines (ranging from about 30 to 90 seconds) on different apparatuses, with less time for vaulting. The sport is governed by the Fédération Internationale de Gymnastique (FIG), which designs the code of points and regulates all aspects of international elite competition. Within individual countries, gymnastics is regulated by national federations. Artistic gymnastics is a popular spectator sport at many competitions, including the Summer Olympic Games-

**A rising star:**

This year's gymnastics season has brought us a new highschool heroine! Sixteen year old Sumire Yoshizawa has left fans all over Japan mesmerized with her debut last week during the floor exercises match of the women’s individual-

Futaba scrolled down a little further, to stare at the picture the article offered. 

She looked stunning, in an outfit that if she narrowed her eyes she’d realise looked a lot like her persona. Her skin shimmered with sweat, baby hairs stuck to her face, her eyes were wide and overwhelmed in pure happiness, her soft looking lips stretched into a winning grin. 

She stared a little more than necessary at those lips.

Oh, she was  _ whipped  _ whipped. 

And how couldn’t she! Sumire was  _ gorgeous _ . A gorgeous creature, so gorgeous none of her waifus compared, the sun itself, the epitome of aesthetics as Inari would say, and even worse, her personality matched that beautiful exterior. Kind, warm, determined. She was also gorgeous on the inside, damnit!

Stupid sexy Sumire. 

And she was going to watch her do her thing on Friday, which left her more than a little nervous. Yes, she had already looked all over the internet for facts and definitions about gymnastics, even had watched a few videos (and stared at a lot of pretty ladies- for research, she swore. Only research.) to have an idea of  _ what exactly  _ were the articles talking about. She had done all her homework.

Now all that was left was the exam.

Could she maybe make a sign to take to the event? Something to cheer her on? Or would that be too much?

Would Sumire even  _ see _ it??

What if Inari suddenly got sick and he couldn’t go at the last minute??? (She had gotten an enthusiastic yes from the artist, who immediately went on a full out rant about the pencils he was going to take to sketch the event, because it  _ truly was a remarkable opportunity to capture the human body in action, a marriage between the aesthetics and the technical  _ he just  _ couldn’t just “doodle stick figures of”, Futaba. _ )

What was she even going to wear? Did it even matter?? She had absolutely no idea about fashion, that was Ann’s thing, not hers!

Maybe she should call Ann.

Maybe she shouldn’t, it’s not as if Sumire would care, right?

But she wanted to look somewhat nice for her, not pull out a whole ass red carpet look because she really couldn’t pull that shit off to save her life, just something to show she cared and hadn’t just emerged out of a 48hr anime binge.

Yeah, she’d need some prime Ann tips.

**19:48**

**[Alibaba]:** ann

**[Alibaba]:** dude

**[Alibaba]:** annnnnnnn

**[Alibaba]:** u powerful woman

**[Alibaba]:** titty whisperer

**[Alibaba]:** fish’s worst nightmare

**[Alibaba]:** ANNNNNNNN

**[LesbiAnn]:** Hi Futaba!!! What’s up???

**[LesbiAnn]:** Fish’s worst nightmare?? Huh??

**[Alibaba]:** u know that cap

**[Alibaba]:** women want me fish fear me

**[Alibaba]:** the one im totally not gettin u for ur bday

**[LesbiAnn]:** OH!!!

**[LesbiAnn]:** Yeah!!!!! Lol it’s great

**[Alibaba]:** ikr

**[Alibaba]:** anyways

**[Alibaba]:** i need some tipz

**[Alibaba]:** fashion deetz

**[LesbiAnn]:** Oh???? You never ask me about fashion???

**[LesbiAnn]:** Omg Futaba are you going on a date and you didn’t tell me????

**[LesbiAnn]:** TELL ME EVERYTHING!!!!

**[Alibaba]:** ITS NOT A DATE

**[Alibaba]:** sumi invited me to her performance thingy

**[Alibaba]:** art gym thing

**[Alibaba]:** yknow

**[Alibaba]:** her thing

**[Alibaba]:** this friday

**[LesbiAnn]:** Oh my God????? That’s adorable!!!!

**[LesbiAnn]:** Suuuuure, not a date, but it could turn into one!!!

**[Alibaba]:** dude its not a date im just supporting my pal

**[Alibaba]:** gal pal

**[Alibaba]:** platonic female friend

**[Alibaba]:** who happens to be hot af

**[Alibaba]:** sides shes straight

**[LesbiAnn]:** She is????? Uh, Futaba are you sure about that????

**[Alibaba]:** yeah lmao didnt u see how she looked at akira

**[Alibaba]: “** senpai!!!1 owo!!”

**[LesbiAnn]:** Oh my God, Futaba--

**[LesbiAnn]:** Don’t tell me you’re jealous of Akira!!!

**[Alibaba]:** what no

**[Alibaba]:** serious no

**[Alibaba]:** No.

**[Alibaba]:** was just giving an example

**[LesbiAnn]:** Okay!! But!!! Have you even asked Sumire about it???

**[LesbiAnn]:** Some people are bisexual, or pansexual, Futaba

**[LesbiAnn]:** You are one of those!!!!

**[Alibaba]:** yeah lmao but how would i even ask that

**[Alibaba]:** nice day today sumi!!! so women hot or nah

**[LesbiAnn]:** Yeah like that!!!!!!

**[Alibaba]:** 404 courage not found

**[LesbiAnn]:** Oh my God--

**[LesbiAnn]:** Okay! Fine, anyways!!!

**[LesbiAnn]:** Clothes, huh!!

**[LesbiAnn]:** Wanna hang out tomorrow and go shopping???

**[Alibaba]:** dont wanna take u away from shiho

**[LesbiAnn]:** Oh don’t worry, she’ll come along!!!!

**[Alibaba]:** oh cool then sure

**[LesbiAnn]:** Great!!! I’ll see you tomorrow!! Shiho and I will pick you up!!!

Ann turned towards her girlfriend, who was watching the conversation with an amused smile. “How are they this blind? Shiho,  _ how _ .”

Her girlfriend snorted a little, and shrugged. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A day of shopping an outfit, one of nerves, and one of making a sign in support of Sumire later, Friday loomed over Futaba.

Okay! She could do this. And besides, it’s not like she’d be alone, she had Inari with her! She could totally do this.

She smoothed her shirt once more as she waited for Inari to come so they could get to the stadium together. Ann had stopped by a while before, to braid her hair and help her finish the sign, a bright monstrosity that exclaimed  **GO SUMI GO!!** With a lot more enthusiasm than necessary, so now all that was left was actually getting there and supporting her. She looked nice, if she said so herself. Her long orange hair had been transformed into two braids, which fell over a green sweater that exposed one of her shoulders. “ _ The secret is in the collarbones,” _ Ann had declared in all her lesbian wisdom, and since she was the one getting laid, Futaba believed her.

  
  


Inari came right in time, luckily, carrying with him the expected art supplies, his pencil set and sketchbook, all ready for an evening of drawing the pretty ladies doing whooshy stuff in the air. When he complimented her, and declared that Sumire would be a fool not to appreciate her, she felt a little better. It felt nice, being cared for like this by his friends. 

  
  


When they got to the stadium, it was already packed. There were a lot more people waiting to be allowed through than she had expected, and she felt herself wanting to shrink down and disappear.  _ Ugh, people. UGH. _

It was made even worse when, in the moving frenzy of people, she lost Inari’s hand.

  
  


**_Oh no._ **

  
  


Okay, Futaba, don’t panic.

Yusuke hadn’t left her. They had just lost each other momentarily. He was surely looking for her. These were people here to watch the show. Nobody was going to attack her.

It was okay.

Nobody was judging her, others had even bigger signs for their preferred athletes.

It was okay.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, and willing her body to stop shaking. Inari was going to find her soon, or she was going to find him, and it was going to be okay.

When she opened them, she saw the people had moved around even more, as they were slowly being allowed through. Okay, she had the tickets. If she didn’t find Inari now, she’d find him when he inevitably would be stopped when trying to enter thanks to the lack of tickets. 

It was okay.

She forced her hands to stop trembling, and decided instead to look around. People weren’t so scary if she saw faces instead of a judging  _ mob. _ Oh, would you look at that? Someone had a sign supporting Sumire too.

...A small streak of both curiosity and insecurity ran through her. What if Sumire had felt obligated to invite her, and she had invited Futaba out of  _ pity??? _ No! No. She wouldn’t do that.

_ But would she???? _

She got a little closer to whoever was holding the sign, and she almost gasped out in horror.  _ Oh no, this guy’s _ **_cool._ **

He was short and cute, but his haircut was daring as hell, one part shaved, the other messily falling down, his eyes a striking green, and was he  _ tattooed _ ? Oh, come on! Even his outfit was ridiculously cool, some techwear stuff, but in a dark shade of green.

_ UGH, of course Sumire had to have cool friends outside of the phantom thieves. _

In all her jealous staring, she hadn’t noticed techwear man approaching her. She only did once he was a little too close for her comfort, and she wasn’t sure whether to bolt the fuck away, or laugh awkwardly or-

“Hey! You’re here to see Yoshizawa too?” He spoke confidently, head held high, nodding once at her, arms crossed, the right one holding the lowered sign.

“Uh- I-I- yeah. Yeah! Sumire.” Okay, be cool, Futaba, be cool.

“Oh, nice.” He flashed her a little grin. 

“You, uh. You uh, know her?” Are you friends with her, cool person who Sumire could totally be into instead of the loser that Futaba is?

“Not really? I mean, I’ve talked to her and sh-stuff, but I’m with a friend, he knows her coach. He’s way more into this stuff.” He gave her a nonchalant shrug. Oh. Oh!

“Then uh, the sign-?”

“She’s good at what she does.” Another shrug. Huh. She relaxed a little. He moved to look around, most likely searching for his friend, the same way she was supposed to be searching for Inari. Where even was he?

She suddenly spotted a head of dark hair standing taller than most who also seemed to be scanning the crowd. She lifted her hand for him to see her, and at the same time-

“ **Flynn!** Here-!  _ Ugh _ , he can’t see me. Sorry, I gotta go catch him before I lose him. See ya, it was nice to meet ya..”

“S-Sakura.”

“Sakura-chan, great! Seeya!” 

Cool techwear dude left, right at the same time Inari appeared back in the scene.

“Futaba!” He rushed to her, apologizing for having lost her. “Was that man bothering you?” “What? No! Dude came to see Sumi too.”

“Oh.” His face immediately lost all hostility. “Well, he had a very particular fashion sense. I’d have loved to capture him. You said he’s here to see Sumire? Do you think I could ask her for his contact information? I haven’t dwelled much in the art of capturing street fashion, but he’d be a lovely third subject.”

….Inari. She laughed, shaking her head. “Inari, you weirdo! C’mon, let’s get inside.”

“But that didn’t answer my question, Futaba-”

“Shhh! Just c’mon!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> titty whisperer


	8. chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things start going somewhere, part 2.  
> up the rollercoaster we go, we have yet to reach the peak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for homophobia.  
> More Inaba, more Futaba, way less Goro.

**admiration:**

_/adməˈreɪʃ(ə)n/_

_Noun_

  * respect and warm approval.



  * something regarded as impressive or worthy of respect.



  * pleasurable contemplation.



  * the bursting sensation in Futaba’s chest. 



She was.. everything. In those moments, in Futaba’s eyes, there was absolutely nobody else other than Sumire Yoshizawa. She had expected something slower, more delicate out of her, a little more like her movements outside of the Metaverse, quiet happiness with bright bursts of energy. 

Instead, the moment her time began, Sumire had become Violet.

Her movements were fierce and energetic, the ribbon having seemingly a life of its own, an accompanying spirit that enveloped her body and created shapes around her, a beam of energy that taunted others, letting them know _who_ they were up against. She was confident, in control, _precise_ , an elegance and an attitude that would’ve made her sister cry, mixed with subtler, gentler movements that gave her that distinct _Sumire_ flavor. 

The public was hers, the awed faces, the shaking excitement, her teasing steps, the way she vibed to the music she had chosen, how the public vibed along with her.

She threw the ribbon, high up in the air, and caught it just as effortlessly, making it surround her body as she moved across the floor, her body bending in ways it should be impossible for a human being to move, yet she did it with the precision of the warrior Futaba knew her to be.

The performance stopped as amazingly as it had begun, and there she was, gorgeous, hands raised, ribbon losing its life, her eyes proud and confident.

She was _good,_ and _she knew it._

It made Futaba want to kiss the life out of her.

She erupted in a loud cheer, raising up from her spot along with others, excitedly waving her sign, Yusuke helping her, who had spent the last moments furiously scribbling, and was now two seconds from crying from the _sheer beauty_ she had displayed, unadulterated emotion pouring from his face. Sumire’s family was nearby, just as overwhelmed, that their child had gone and accomplished _that._

 _Damn, Kasumi would’ve been so_ **_proud_ ** _._

She had disappeared to the back to reunite with her coach, but she would be back out soon for the following part of the performance, after her fellow athletes had done their bit. Futaba turned to Yusuke, who had the beginning of tears in his eyes. She wiped them off his face with the biggest grin when she beckoned him to lean down. “Dude, Inari, did you see that?!” “Pure beauty is what I saw! The raw emotion, the passion, the technique!” He raised back up, still singing praises to Sumire’s performance even as the public quieted back down for the next athlete. 

None of them, no matter how beautiful, compared to what she had seen in Sumire’s fierce eyes. None of them moved as if they were then and there manifesting their persona, as if the power was about to burst out from their body.

Just her.

_Only her._

She took a moment in between sections to look around. A few rows behind Inari (who was finishing one of his sketches of the girl that had just finished her segment with alarming speed) was the techwear dude from before, with the one Futaba assumed was his friend, a tall guy with long black hair neatly styled into a ponytail, wearing mostly white and light blue, who was excitedly talking to techwear dude about most likely one of the performances. 

They seemed to be close friends, bouncing off of each other with ease, the shorter of the two being way more energetic, and the taller more passionate. Together they looked like two post apocalyptic jrpg protagonists who had just learned they don’t have to be silent and were using all the voice acting they couldn’t before. Good for them.

Sumire’s second performance was just as amazing, a second round of a fight, a determination and a power that grew by the second, made her even brighter, louder, a star so bright she’d turn into a supernova at any moment, exploding in the last few moments of her performance, when her movements got more daring, more energetic, _better_ , before turning subtler, softer, the morning after the party, the bits left after a burst of light. 

A story told in movement and sound. 

And it ended too soon for Futaba, in a show of absolute expertise to stop all her movements, and strike the final pose without even thinking to falter.

And she thought she couldn’t scream louder.

The scores came on a while later, and it was more than obvious that Sumire would come first. 

It didn’t stop Futaba’s loud cheering, though. 

Sumire looked so happy in that moment, hugging the life out of her coach and grinning so wide her face looked about to break. Inside of Futaba’s chest there was this feeling, something that had taken her heart with a vice like grip, something she could only describe as _holy shit, I’m so excited for you what the hell-._

She was ecstatic for her. She turned towards Inari, who was shoving on her face a drawing. He wasn’t grinning, but the shine in his eyes and the way he passionately moved let her know he was just as excited as she was. She took the drawing in her hands to see exactly what the hell this tall lanky boy had been drawing all this time, and once again she was dazzled by Yusuke’s drawing abilities. How did the madman do it, she wondered. _How._ And he still didn’t draw her oc with the biggest tits ever. What a shame. 

The drawing he showed her was of Sumire in the middle of her performance, and even with the limited palette, and the rushed strokes, Yusuke managed to capture the sheer power in her movements. She looked beautiful even in a rushed sketch.

“Damn, Inari, you’re good at this shit. Sumi’s gonna love it.”

“I’d like to believe so, yes.” He took the drawing back as they slowly made their way out of the stadium. On the way, they bumped into jrpg protags, and techwear dude excitedly waved at Futaba before they disappeared from sight, taller dude grabbing his wrist to lead the both of them to Sumire’s coach. 

Huh. They looked like fun people, and a lot less threatening now that she knew which role they played in Sumire’s life: background npcs. Nothing to be scared of! Nothing that gave any signals that she had already lost before saying anything, which was a pathetic line of thought, since she had already lost. 

_Sumire’s straight, dumbass._

Oh, but she could wish, couldn’t she?

_No, she couldn’t._

_UGH._

Speaking of Sumire, there was the woman of the hour, back in normal clothes. She rushed straight to Futaba, a huge grin in her face. _Oh no, the Sun itself, it hurts-_

“Futaba-senpai! You made it!” Oh no, she even _took Futaba’s hands in her own and was currently swishing them around oh noooo Sumire don’t do that you’re too sexy aha--SAY SOMETHING YOU FOOL-_

“Yeah dude, of course! You were amazing, doing all that whooshy stuff? It was _great._ You’re amazing at this!” In response, Sumire grinned even wider, jumping a little on her toes like the absolutely adorable creature that she was. Then, her eyes flickered towards Yusuke, and for a moment her expression faltered. “Kitagawa-senpai! You came too!” Inari turned towards her, and grabbed her shoulder, a determined expression in his face. “I am terribly sorry for cutting short your sentimental moment with Futaba, Yoshizawa-san, but I simply must give something to you.” Still holding Futaba’s hands, Sumire turned to look at him, as he went on a full out congratulating rant, about the _beauty_ and the _aesthetics_ and the _glamour of her outfit_ and more Inari brand wording, before _bowing deeply like the dramatic fuck he was_ and presenting her with the page of his sketchbook, his head hung low. 

_Yusuke, WHY._

Sumire blinked at him in surprise. People around them blinked in surprise.

Then, she burst out in soft laughter, a flattered smile on her face, cheeks a little pink.

Moving away from Futaba she took the drawing, and paused to stare at it. “Whoa, Kitagawa-senpai, this is amazing! Thank you so much!” She gave him a short little bow back, her face darkening to red and her eyes wide in happiness.

He gave her a nod back once he rose up, holding his chest with one hand. “I was but a mere conductor through which your excellence shone through. Thank yourself, Yoshizawa-san.” She simply stared at him, cheeks getting even darker. 

“I-I. Can I keep it?” 

“Of course.” She grinned at him.

_Oh no._

Did- Did she like him.

Did she like Inari? 

She couldn’t compete against _Inari_! 

The weirdo was amazing! 

She already was aware Inari didn’t like her back, they had talked about it, but that didn’t leave off the table the possibility of _Sumire liking him_. 

Said redhead quickly turned to her parents (when had they even approached them? Futaba gave them an awkward little wave.) and gave them the drawing to keep. They took it, waved hello at the group (Futaba suddenly realised she hadn’t seen Sumire’s mother before. She looked like a kind woman, with long dark hair and wrinkles that gave away she had smiled more than she had frowned in her life. For a moment, Futaba wondered how the family had taken Kasumi’s death. But she didn’t dare ask. Not right now, it was a celebration after all.), then turned to Sumire’s coach, who was with tall jrpg protagonist (His name was Len? Lynn? No, _Flynn_ , right-) 

“I-uh, Futaba-senpai, we’re going to get ice cream now! Wanna come with us?” _Oh?_

_For the love of everything Futaba don’t fuck this up._

_DON’T FUCK THIS UP._

“I-I. Sure dude! that’d be awesome. Inari, man, your dorms have a time restriction?” 

When she turned to look at Yusuke, 

he had his _I suddenly had a wonderful idea_ face.

With his poised deadpan of hell, he nodded his head. “Actually, they do. I’m terribly sorry to say this, but unless I catch the next train, they won’t let me in for the night. And to catch that train, I should get going. Goodbye, Yoshizawa-san, and congratulations again. Futaba, I’ll text you to let you know I arrived safely.” 

…

He looked at her with those knowing eyes, then bowed at the two girls.

…

_Yusuke you fucking angel, I hate you and love you at the same time._

She watched him leave in disbelief, awed at the fact that for once in his life _Yusuke Kitagawa_ had been _subtle_. Sumire grabbed her hand once more.

“Okay! So it’s the two of us!” Did she look… disappointed? Maybe she had wanted Yusuke to stay and now had to conform with only Futaba’s presence.

Maybe, all along, she had given the tickets to Futaba in hopes she invited Inari to come with her.

Maybe she was too intimidated by him to outright invite him.

Maybe Futaba was just the middleman.

She kept staring where Inari had been.

“Shall we go?” Sumire pulled her out of her increasingly negative train of thought, tugging Futaba already, their fingers lacing together as she led her out of the stadium, her parents behind them. She shook her head.

She had to be a good friend, and not let her silly little crush ruin said crush’s night. She could mope later, over some curry and Featherman. But not now. She smiled at her, nodding. “Yeah, Sumi, let’s go!”

  
  
  
  


They exited the Stadium, and Sumire had yet to let go of her hand.

It felt firm, warm, contrasting the chilly air around them. They both walked a few meters ahead from Sumire’s parents, who were invested in their conversation and not their daughter’s rela- _Friendship._ The streets got emptier and emptier as they walked on, Tokyo’s light stifling any attempts at stars there could be in the sky, instead offering a pitch black backdrop which against contrasted the muted white from the buildings and the sidewalk stones. 

Sumire rocked their joined hands, humming her performance’s song to fill the silence.

On her free hand, Futaba carried the rolled up sign, and her nerves. 

Whaaaat? She wasn’t nervous. Not at all. 

Okay, maybe a little.

She could fuck this up so hard if she said something stupid. And she _really_ didn’t wanna say anything stupid! That’s all!

She really hoped her palms weren’t too sweaty.

Oh no, she hadn’t said anything, which was even worse than saying something stupid!

She had to say something.

Anything.

“So-uh- Why did you choose that song?”

Sumire turned her stupidly pretty head towards her. “Oh, Akira-senpai showed it to me a while ago! I thought it was really fitting for what I wanted to do? So there it went!”

“Oh! That’s neat, Akira has a great music taste.” _Great, they were talking about_ **_Akira._ **

“He does!”

…

More silence for a few blocks.

Great.

They were holding hands and being all cute and Futaba had no idea how to make the conversation _flow._

Maybe she could tell her about the anime she was watching? Ugh, but that was so _lame_ compared to her achievements.

Since when did she even care about that, though?

And besides, Sumire already knew how lame she was, she had seen her in her giant Metaverse goggles and her spaceship persona!

“Hey Sumi.”

“Yeah Senpai?”

“I-I don’t think I ever asked? Are you into anime?”

Sumire seemed to look a little uncomfortable, but she wasn’t exactly sure why. Was anime a touchy subject or something?

“I.. not really? But not like I dislike it or anything! No! I don’t know much about it, that’s all.” She winced a little, as if she was expecting Futaba to be mad or something. But why would she be? This was a prime opportunity to introduce her to a world she was missing out on!

They spent a lot more blocks than expected talking about the matter, and for a moment Futaba felt confident enough to talk more, to express her knowledge. Sumire, if she was bored, certainly didn’t show it, instead asking questions and nodding her head along eagerly. 

It seemed the ice had broken a little bit, and maybe Futaba could get a little bolder and-

“Girls! We’re almost there, turn right!” Sumire’s father called, and she let go of Futaba’s hand. Oh, right, to hold the ice cream. 

Right.

Maybe they had been holding hands because Sumire had forgotten about it, and that was all there was to it.

Probably.

The parlor mocked her, with its bright cheerful exterior. _C’mon_ , it said. _Flirt with your pretty friend, I dare you_. 

How did she end up with a cookies and cream and chocolate ice cream cup? No idea. When did they leave the parlor? No idea either. All that was in Futaba’s mind was trying to get enough determination to at least tell the absolute angel next to her that she was, indeed, pretty, and even prettier when she was wiping all her competition across the floor. 

“Hey, Futaba-senpai?” Sumire wasn’t looking at her. Oh no, had she fucked up already? Oh fuck-

“Y-yeah Sumi?”

“You.. you look really pretty.”

**_WAIT-_ **

“Uh- what-”

“I! It’s just that, your braids! I really like them! And your sweater! It’s great!”

“T-thanks! Dude, I- Thank you!” She squeaked out, a nervous grin she couldn’t keep in spreading through her face. Thank God for Ann’s lesbian wisdom. It really was all in the collarbones. “You. You looked _amazing_ at the performance? I. I don’t know if I told you.” Ugh, she wanted to stuff her head inside the ice cream, that had been so _lame-_

When she looked back at Sumire, she was the darkest shade of red she had ever seen her.

_Holy shit._

That was a good sign wasn’t it?

It had to be, right?

“S-Senpai, can I..” She gestured with her spoon, wanting to try some of Futaba’s ice cream. She handed the cup to her, switching with Sumire, so she could try some of the strange concoction of cherry and pistachio Sumire had bought, and she was about to savor a bite of said concoction, when a literal bomb was dropped on her.

“You..You know, Senpai, I. I’m really glad you came to see me.”

“Of course Sumi! Why-Why wouldn’t I come?” She put the spoon in her mouth. 

“Well, you’re always so busy, and. Yeah. But! I’m really happy you came! It means a lot. And I meant it! That. That you look really great. I- I hope Kitagawa-senpai appreciates it. He.. He seems like a great **boyfriend**.” The last word was dropped with a softer, duller tone.

She almost spat her ice cream right back out of her mouth.

_What._

_What the fuck._

**_Boyfriend?!_ **

  
  


That sentence stunned Futaba so much, that the only thing she did was laugh nervously, thrown so far off her element she wasn’t sure how to deny it faster. Speaking of the devil, to make matters even worse, Inari texted her, telling her he had arrived safely at his home. Sumire, who was close enough, saw the text and smiled at her. Oh god.

By the time Futaba gathered her thoughts enough to tell Sumire that _no_ , _Yusuke wasn’t her boyfriend_ , that _no_ , _she wasn’t straight_ and that _yes, she was single and ready to mingle and very interested in redheads with amazing artistic gymnastics skills_ , they were in front of her house. 

“I’ll see you at school, Futaba-senpai! Thank you for coming!” She shouted, as she joined her parents, who waved at her.

“I-I’ll text you! About the anime thing!” _Oh, and Yusuke isn’t my boyfriend!_ She wanted to shout. But she didn’t. 

And how could she bring it up now?

Could she just text her about it? All of a sudden? Or would it be super awkward?? _What now??_ Could she text Inari about it? _Maybe he could tell Sumire that no, they aren’t dating._

_Oh God, what if Sumire wanted Inari and that’s why she had said that, to find out if it was true what she had assumed??_

She only knew one thing to do.

**21:43**

**[Alibaba]:** ANN

 **[Alibaba]:** ANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN HELP

 **[Alibaba]:** I FUCKED UP

  
  
  
  
  
  


While she anxiously waited for a reply that would save her from this mess, she turned to her computer, to check what her friends were up to. Yes, she didn’t snoop around as often, but right now she needed to do _something_ that wasn’t related to her fucking up and accidentally confirming Yusuke was her boyfriend (the mere idea felt so _wrong-_ ) by omission.

So, instead, she decided to check on Akira. 

They hadn’t spoken that much the few days before, but she assumed he was busy, and she didn’t want to overwhelm him by screaming about Sumire when he was probably drowning in homework and trying to survive in that hellhole he had been sent to. 

Predictably enough, he was at his house. Maybe instead of just watching she could call him? But she knew how tense (even if Akira didn’t say that much, and that was already a telltale sign of wrongness) things were at _that place_. 

So, to make sure she wouldn’t be causing him trouble, she turned on the audio feed. 

The first thing she noticed, was how oddly _silent_ everything was. 

There was only the sound of plates and noodles being eaten filling the static, but no dialogue, nothing that let it be known there were three people sitting at a table and eating.

For a moment she wondered if everything was calibrated well, thanks to the lack of _anything_ going on.

However, the phrase “ _We’ve heard you have been meeting up with a bunch of degenerates._ ” broke through the silence like a particularly lethal bullet.

She sat there, blinking a few times. Did she- did she hear that right. It made a pit of despair sink inside her stomach, coiling and restricting her movements, making her want to throw up the vile that was now accumulating in her throat. 

If it affected _her_ , how much more did it affect _Akira_?

(She was a little relieved to find out he had been making some friends, but she didn’t want to find out _like that_!)

Her phone began blowing up with messages from Ann, however, and she made a mental note of texting Akira as soon as she heard him go to his bedroom, keeping the feed going, and recording, just in case.

She turned to her texts, one eye on them, one eye on Akira’s feed.

**22:05**

**[LesbiAnn]:**???????

 **[LesbiAnn]:** Futaba what did you do??????

 **[LesbiAnn]:** Okay whatever it is, I’m sure it’s nothing bad!!!

 **[LesbiAnn]:** We can fix whatever happened okay!!!

 **[LesbiAnn]:** Did you fight with Sumire????

 **[LesbiAnn]:** Did you say something weird????

 **[LesbiAnn]:** You didn’t show her something creepy from the internet, did you?????

 **[LesbiAnn]:** Futaba?????

 **[Alibaba]:** yo ann uh

 **[Alibaba]:** can u do me a favor

 **[LesbiAnn]:** ???? Sure!!! What is it???

 **[Alibaba]:** text akira in like

 **[Alibaba]:** an hour

 **[LesbiAnn]:** Okay!!! But what for???

 **[LesbiAnn]:** Not that I don’t wanna talk to Aki, but is something wrong???

 **[Alibaba]:** yeah

 **[Alibaba]:** checked on him and his parents are being creepy and weird

 **[Alibaba]:** but be subtle kay

 **[LesbiAnn]:** Oh no is it that bad???

 **[Alibaba]:** yeah

 **[LesbiAnn]:** Okay I’ll text him!!!

 **[Alibaba]:** great

 **[LesbiAnn]:** Do you wanna tell me what happened with Sumire now??

 **[LesbiAnn]:** Or you don’t feel like it?? It’s okay either way!!!

 **[LesbiAnn]:** I love you and respect your space!!!

 **[Alibaba]:** yeah dude ill tell ya

 **[Alibaba]:** basically sumi thinks inaris my bf now

 **[LesbiAnn]:** WAIT, WHAT???

 **[LesbiAnn]:** HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?????

* * *

It was a shame school ended so late. Sunday was three days away, however, which meant at least that day Akira could sleep in a while longer, then take Morgana someplace they would decide on today.

He had promised Morgana they’d spend Sunday outside together, and he intended to fulfill said promise, but he needed to find a place they wouldn’t be seen at, and that was easier said than done. Morgana stared at Akira from his bag as they made their way through the streets, big blue eyes full of excitement for _finally_ doing something that wasn’t just sneaking around in Akira’s bag. Akira returned the smile to him. 

“Oh- Akira- we should have a picnic! Somewhere near the river!” He mumbled, trying to keep his voice quiet _just in case_. 

He blinked with a quick nod of his head, just enough to let Morgana know he was listening without doing any suspicious movements. 

_A picnic near the river, huh_. 

It sounded good. 

In his mind he made a list of things he’d need to buy, trying not to think too hard about the possibility of bumping into _Yu_ again at Junes. It would be too much of a coincidence, wouldn’t it? And besides, yes, they’ve had a conversation, and Yu had expressed he found Akira amusing, but that didn’t guarantee friendship. Then again, Akira had a talent for making quick friendships when he wasn’t weighed down by his reputation, so maybe he could form a bond with the silver haired man. He couldn’t get his hopes up, however, and he tried to drill that thought inside his head as he entered Junes to get supplies for his and Morgana’s picnic. 

  
  
  
  
  


Oh, would he look at that? He was wrong. 

He loved being wrong.

Talking to a girl in the counter was Yu in all his glory, his ensemble this time being lighter greys and whites, making him look as if he had been carved out from pure silver. He kept a calm happiness in his features as he talked to the girl, who was making a real effort in trying to not look flustered. She giggled and played with her hair, trying to keep her tone from being too high pitched, while Yu talked about, Akira would come to find out the moment he got a little closer, the cat he found nearby the police station. 

Oh, he liked cats? He turned to glance at Morgana, who was also staring from the hole in his bag at Yu. Maybe he could introduce them to each other. 

He did his best impression of being uninterested as he came inside the store and got his things, looking at Yu but really, _really_ trying not to look too eager to talk to him. It was whatever, totally. It’s not like he really wanted to be friends with him, no. 

However, he quickly found out he didn’t have to pretend for too long, as Yu _lit up_ the moment he saw Akira approaching the counter, and immediately beckoned him to come join the conversation. 

“Akira-kun! Hey.” He smiled a little, and Akira felt his chest bubble up in excitement. 

“Hey, Narukami-san.” 

“Yu’s fine, you know. What have you been up to?”

He even had naming privileges now, holy shit. This was happening, they were becoming friends. Akira needed to keep it cool. 

The girl at the counter who had begun ringing his items seemed absolutely shocked to see him talking to Yu, looking in between them nervously. He glanced at her a little better, only to confirm his suspicions: indeed, this was one of his classmates. He couldn’t seem to remember her name as he paid, but he was sure he had seen her in the hallways. “Oh, I didn’t introduce you two?” Yu shook his head with an apologetic grin. “This is Aiko-chan. Aiko-chan, this is-”

“We know each other.” She cut in, trying her hardest not to snap at Yu, sending a quick glare Akira’s way. “I-I mean- We go to the same class, Narukami-san!” _They did?_ He raised his eyebrows. “You do? Huh.” Yu’s eyes narrowed slightly as he stared her down. She focused on twirling her hair. “Well, it was great talking to you, Aiko-chan. Send your sister my regards. Akira-kun?” He nodded at Akira, signaling to follow him. 

He didn’t need to be told twice. 

“I-I, see you, Narukami-san! I’ll tell my sister you said hi!”

He waved at her as he escorted him out. Akira was a little confused about what had happened in those moments, but he wasn’t going to question it either, instead he followed Yu out of the store and to the street.

“So! Once again, what’s up?”

“The sky.” Akira replied, which made Yu smile a little, his shoulders relaxing.

They walked while making small talk, which music they enjoyed, which shows they watched, what Yu did for work (it seemed a little too vague, his explanation that he had two jobs, one in an office and one of them for an electronics corporation apparently. It’s all that came to mind at the word “Kirijo '' after all.), about the odd jobs Akira had had back in Tokyo. He had also learned Yu actually lived in Tokyo, and he was in Inaba for a few months only.

_Oh._

Well, it wasn’t as if Akira was going to stay in Inaba, right? The following year he was going to be back in Tokyo, and they could hang out there. Besides, if he hadn’t come to Inaba, perhaps they wouldn’t have met at all in Tokyo! Maybe they had been destined to meet through these circumstances.

( _Something in the back of his mind screamed that they had actually met before, but it couldn’t be. Akira would’ve remembered someone like Yu, right?_ )

A few blocks into the walk, however, Yu came closer to Akira, with a conspiratorial tone. 

“Akira-kun, do you like cats?” 

“I love them.” Well, at least he loved one cat.

A grin spread on Yu’s face.

“Come with me.”

  
  
  
  


And that’s how Akira found himself in a part of town he wasn’t sure he had ever been at. They were pretty far from others, right in front of the river, in an area where it eventually split and turned into two courses of gleaming water. The grass was as luscious as it could be, the setting sun giving everything a golden glow and making the rocks in the water shine. 

It was beautiful. 

He turned back towards Yu to express that sentiment, only to find him holding a fat orange cat out to him. It was the cutest thing he had ever seen, after Morga-

Oh shit, Morgana. 

He exchanged a look with said cat not-cat, asking silent permission to reveal him to Yu. Morgana nodded.

“Yu-san?”

“Hm?”

He opened his bag and took Morgana out, holding him out to Yu.

“...Holy shit.” Yu gently put the fat cat down, his whole attention now on Morgana, grey eyes wide in surprise. Morgana meowed at Yu, instead of talking. 

When Akira had told Morgana about his handshake with Yu and how familiar it had felt a while after it happened, Morgana confessed that he smelt something familiar in him as well, but couldn’t exactly pinpoint the reason for said familiarity. Just in case, for now, they’d play it safe. “Hey there, buddy..” He raised a hand out for Morgana, signaling he wanted to pet him. “What’s their name?” 

“His name’s Morgana.”

“Oh, that’s a nice name. Hey there Morgana.” He gently pet his head, Morgana meowing and purring softly. It felt nice being pet, after all. “Your parents know you have him?” He asked, a knowing little smirk on his face. 

“Nope.” Akira replied, shrugging.

“Well, nobody comes around here except me and some of my friends. You can let him out here and nobody would know.” Did that mean Akira was now included in ‘some friends’? He hoped so. Yu let go of Morgana so Akira could put him down and he could finally stretch his legs. 

They spent a few moments in silence, sitting down and watching Morgana run around and roll in the grass. It was peaceful, a place where Akira felt safe enough to lean back and close his eyes for a moment.

When he opened them back up, the sky was darker, shades of orange and red tinting the clouds that passed by. A breeze ran through, ruffling his black curls. Next to him, Yu had also laid down. No words needed to be said in those few seconds of tranquility to let Akira know he had been accepted in Yu’s life. He didn’t know if they were friends yet, but the initiative was right there, in the act of having taken him here.

“Thanks, for showing me this place, Yu-san.”

“You looked like you needed it. I.. I know what it’s like to be different, Akira-kun.” Yu raised up to look at him. “And different people, we have to stick together, you know?”

He couldn’t stop the feeling of relief blooming inside Akira’s chest, and for once in a while, he felt he could breathe again.

They parted ways an hour later, Akira now having Yu’s number and the promise to hang out with him, Yosuke, and two other friends of his, Yukiko and Chie (who were apparently a couple as well. Akira couldn’t help but feel _ecstatic_ at meeting even more people like him, but at the same time a little jealous for being the only single one in there), on the following day, Friday, after school. 

He walked with a little pep on his step the whole way back to his house.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Friday came soon enough. 

Akira, while getting ready for school, turned towards Morgana. “You know we aren’t cancelling Sunday, right?” He could speak as loud as he wanted, his parents wouldn’t be back till later that night. Morgana nodded, busying himself with stretching. “It’s about time you made friends here, Akira! I know you won’t leave me behind for them, don’t worry. I’ve matured. Besides, maybe one of your new friends can introduce me to some ladies, you know.” Akira snorted at that. 

He knew that would make him laugh. Morgana was worried about him, after all, the stress of being confined to that school, with people who hated him and wanted nothing but his destruction had been getting to him. It was a good thing he had found people he could be himself around for once, it would help to keep him grounded. Rather than jealousy, like Akira had insinuated, what Morgana felt was relief.

  
  


School happened without much fanfare, with as many glares and muttered insults as usual. It felt awful, knowing that the usual was _this_ , pain and avoidance, but he’d have to endure it just a little longer. _Just a little longer._

When Akira walked through one of the hallways, he made eye contact with the girl from the day before. She narrowed her eyes in a particularly lethal glare. “He doesn’t know _who_ you are, you know.” She hissed as he walked past her.

It was true, technically. Yu didn’t know who Akira was.

Would he end their budding friendship if he knew he was _shameful Kurusu_?

Would he hate him if he found out he had been a Phantom Thief? 

He found no reason to tell him that, however. It’s not as if they were currently active, or if they would ever be active again. After all, the Metaverse had disappeared.

He could keep a few secrets.

Nobody stopped him this time as he walked out of Yasogami’s gates, and he sighed in relief, opening his phone to let Yu know he was finally free.

**15:45**

**[Smooth criminal]:** Hey Yu-san! Just wanted to let you know that I’m finally out of school. nwn 

**[Yu Narukami]:** Akira-kun! Great. Can you meet us here? :-)

He sent Akira directions for a local inn, and oh no, was that an emoji with a nose? He snorted softly. He had passed by the Inn a few times, but never went inside, as he didn’t have any reason to do so before. But he guessed there was always a first time for everything, wasn’t there?

Following the directions he had been given, he arrived at the Inn, outside of which were three figures waiting for him. One was Yu, in a white shirt and dark jeans, who gave Akira a friendly, beckoning wave. The other was his partner, whom he had yet to know the name of, decked in a white jacket, red pants and a patterned shirt, the ensemble contrasting against his tanned skin. The third was a woman he had seen around before, but he hadn’t actually paid attention to, in his little bubble of teen angst and supernatural fuckery. She was shorter than the two men, with short dyed brown hair that didn’t reach her shoulders, instead framing her face and making it look rounder, softer, the bangs that covered her eyebrows helping said look. She had a strong build, the one of a well trained athlete, filling snugly her light wash jeans and green jacket. Expressive doe eyes and soft pink lips were pulled into fierce expressions as she excitedly talked to Yu’s partner, her voice high pitched and determined, with hand gestures to match. 

Overall, she looked like someone that could _kick Akira’s ass_ , and he _loved it_. 

She turned to Akira once she noticed him, and excitedly waved him over as well, seemingly eager to meet him. He approached the trio with a sheepish little grin.

“Uh, hey.”

“So _you_ are the kid Yu told us about! It’s nice to finally put a face to the name, Akira-kun!”

He wasn’t expecting the way she grabbed his arm to pull him closer to the others, and even less that same **familiar** sensation that came with the contact. 

It startled him, the feeling was less intense than it had been when he had touched Yu, but nonetheless it was _there_ , the sensation that he had just met yet another member of a family he wasn’t aware he had till now. She seemed to also notice it, and she quickly let go of him, as if she had been burned. Her eyes flickered towards Yu, who shrugged. He felt as if he was watching a conversation not meant for Akira’s ears, but _about him._ It was unsettling, to say the least. 

However, the strange feeling didn’t last, as Yu’s partner quickly broke the settling awkward silence. 

“So, Akira-kun! You already know Yu, but I didn’t introduce myself before! My name’s Yosuke Hanamura, and this is our friend, Chie Satonaka.” 

She seemed to break away from her silent conversation with Yu, and quickly got that eager smile from before back up. “That’s me! We’re just missing my girlfriend, she’ll be out in a second!”

“Akira-kun.” Yu began. “Did you bring Morgana?”

“Huh? What’s Morgana?”

“My cat.” Said cat (not cat) made a small mew from Akira’s bag, to confirm to the others there was, indeed, a cat (not cat) there.

“Ah, so that’s how you charmed my partner, huh!” Yosuke exclaimed, a fond grin on his face. “He adores them.”

“I have three priorities in my life. One is Yosuke,” At that, said man rolled his eyes, the grin getting even warmer. “The other is my little sister Nanako,” “It’s his cousin, actually.” Chie conspiratorially informed Akira. “And last but not least, my goal to pet all cats in the world.”

“A truly commendable goal.” Akira nodded solemnly. 

They suddenly got interrupted by a girl coming out of the Inn, a sheepish smile on her face. “Hello everyone, I’m terribly sorry for the wait.” 

_She was beautiful._

Tall and graceful, she carried herself with a quiet air of elegance, with her pale pink skirt that flowed with every step, and a white shirt with flower lace that ended in puffy sleeves. She had long black hair cascading down her back and framing her face, delicate features combined with sharp dark eyes that gave her an almost regal appearance. She contrasted with her girlfriend beautifully, two sides of a coin, giving their combination a sense of harmony and balance of their respective traits. Chie took her hand almost immediately once she had fully stepped out, and in the two seconds Akira had seen the both of them, he could already see the way they cared for each other. 

_Damn, I wish that were me._ “You must be Akira-san!” The choice in honorific was a little surprising, but he didn’t mind it, offering her a soft smile back. “That’s me.”

“It’s a pleasure, I’m Yukiko Amagi.”

_Amagi? Like the inn? Oh-Ooooh, like the inn._

He suddenly understood why they were there. “I only have two hours to spare before I have to make my way back, so, shall we get going?”

  
  
  


A little bit later they were back at that place Yu had shown him the day before, where the river split and none others were around to watch or judge him. It was just them, and for some reason Akira had yet to pinpoint exactly, he felt safe around them.

Like he had stumbled upon a new branch of his family, and he didn’t mean the one he was related by blood, but something _deeper_ , more personal, the one he felt he _truly belonged to_.

The feeling.. Akira didn’t want it to ever stop. 

  
  
  
  
  


They spent the rest of the afternoon, even after Yukiko had to leave (having kissed Chie and apologized to the others. “It’s okay princess, go ahead, I’ll go in a little bit, okay?” “No! No, please stay Chie, you can come back later.” Akira felt a little pang of envy in his heart, not envy towards them exactly, but the _connection_ they had. For a moment he thought of Goro, those moments of quiet understanding in another reality, where his walls had begun to crumble, only to build themselves back up stronger when they had to face Maruki. The envy turned into sorrow. But he chose to ignore it, as he wanted to be _there_ , enjoy the moment with people he actually enjoyed being with in the hellhole he was in.), they spent it mostly talking and messing around in the field, getting to know Akira better, and trying to introduce him to their dynamic. Morgana got all the petting he hadn’t had in a long time, ran around and stretched, even got fed some of the sushi they had stopped earlier to buy.

For most of the afternoon, too, Morgana had done an excellent job of not talking. 

He slipped only once, when he shouted at Akira to look at him, that he was going to do a barrel roll. 

He froze the moment he finished the sentence, in his comfort having forgotten that he wasn’t supposed to, well, talk.

Yosuke tensed up from his position watching his phone’s screen. But when Akira also tensed up, ready to ask for confirmation on what he suspected, all he got was “Morgana can meow pretty high pitched, huh?” He grinned at Akira, rubbing his ear and wincing a little.

Oh.

The sun began to set and that meant saying goodbye, but he now had all their numbers, and the promise to hang out again, and Akira didn’t feel anxious about when would be the next time he’d see them. 

**18:47**

**[Smooth criminal]:** Hey Yu-san! You told me to text you when I got home so. Here I am. nwn

 **[Cat lover 3000]:** Great, Akira-kun. I had a great time. I hope you and Morgana had a great time too. :-)

 **[Smooth criminal]:** We did! Morgana says hi, btw!

And it was true, Morgana did say hello. For a moment, Yosuke’s tensing up came to mind. Could they hear him and they had just said nothing?

If they could, what would that mean?

Had they been to the Metaverse before?

If so, how come they hadn’t crossed paths before?

**[Cat lover 3000]:** Hello Morgana. :-D

Could he even ask about that without sounding crazy?

What if Yosuke had actually been telling the truth and he had just winced at Morgana’s pitch?

  
  
  


**19:00**

**[Cat lover 3000]:** Oh, by the way, Akira?

 **[Smooth criminal]:** Yeah?

 **[Cat lover 3000]:** Would you like to be in our group chat?

 **[Cat lover 3000]:** It’s the four of us plus four more friends.

Holy shit he was being invited to the group chat.

**[Smooth criminal]:** Sure! I’d love that! -w-

 **[Cat lover 3000]:** Great, I’ll add you in a bit.

  
  
  


Akira couldn’t wait. But first, he needed to go have dinner, as he had heard his parents arrive. His mood fell a little, but he was determined to keep it up, no matter what. He could handle another silent dinner!

  
  
  


Dinner, for the first time in a while, hadn’t been silent that night. 

It had begun that way, with only the sound of plates and noodles to indicate any signs of life inside the house, the tension that could only be cut with an axe permeating every single one of their movements. 

Akira couldn’t concentrate on eating, however, as he could feel his mother’s glare cutting right through him with every movement he made. He didn’t dare ask, either, just tried his best to ignore it, wait for her silent rage to cool down without his intervention in any shape or form. The food tasted strange as well, undercooked in some parts, overcooked in others, as if it had been made as quickly as possible, but Akira didn’t say anything, he really didn’t want to break into an argument because of _noodles_.

However, it seemed luck wasn’t on his side this time, because an argument would break nonetheless. 

“We’ve heard you have been meeting up with a bunch of degenerates.” His mother spat out at him. Akira stared at her in confusion for a moment.

_A bunch of degenerates?_

What?

…

_Oh._

He.. hadn’t been expecting that from them, although he now felt he should’ve. News travelled fast in Inaba, didn’t they.

“They aren’t-” He mumbled, but he was promptly cut off.

“Out of all the people in this town, Akira. Did you have to choose the worst possible crowd to meet up with?”

He tried to continue eating.

“You say that as if they were murderers.”

“They aren’t normal, Akira.”

The noodles were chewy in that particular bite.

His father remained silent.

“Haven’t we had _enough_ with you? Haven’t we suffered enough mockery?” She pleaded.

_Oh. So that’s what this is about._

“They are my friends, not yours.” He began, trying to stand up for himself in between the amount of razor blades being currently thrown at him in the form of hurting words.

“Don’t we give you enough, Akira. Haven’t you drained us enough? Took everything from us? If you want to be selfish and hang out with a bunch of _freaks_ , do so away from us.”

“I-”

“What happened to you, Akira. What happened to my son. Has everyone abandoned you so now you can only make friends with the bottom of the barrel?”

“The- _the bottom of the barrel?_ ” He let out a little laugh. “They’re all doing better than the both of you.”

His mother seemed to have fire instead of eyes at that moment.

“That dingy inn only stays in place because the Amagi family tries their best to run it despite their daughter becoming a _lesbian_ . If it wasn’t for them, their daughter and her.. thing, would be _nowhere._ ”

Chie seemed to be doing more than okay as a karate teacher but okay, he guessed.

“That’s not true.” He simply stated, face slowly becoming stone.

The noodles were getting cold.

“ **Tokyo changed you so much.** ” Did it, now?

“ **You used to be so nice, so** **_obedient_ ** **.** ” Obedient, huh.

 **“Now it’s as if you’re a stranger in your own** **_home_ ** **!** ” She hissed, the tone in her voice one in between sorrow and hatred.

…

  
  
  


It seemed she couldn’t be reasoned with.

(Inside of Akira, he was screaming. He was in between crying and seeing red, a pit of despair growing inside his stomach and wanting to take with it the noodles he had just eaten. It was ice and fire at the same time, the pain of being thrown so many hurting words in his face, combined with the sorrow of not being able to react against them, in fear of things _escalating._ )

Instead of immediately answering, he stood up. 

His mother immediately tried to grab his sleeve, but he jerked his arm away. 

“They’re my friends, not yours. Good night.”

“When you ruin your own opportunities in life and end up completely alone thanks to being seen with that bunch of degenerates, don’t come crying to us, Akira.”

“ **I won’t.** ”

He closed the door with a bang, and sank to the floor. Morgana, who had heard it all, rushed to his side, to offer as much comfort as he possibly could, purring his loudest.

“I’m so sorry, Akira.” He whispered to him. All Akira did in response was squeeze Morgana close, while he kept purring. 

Both ignored the tears that fell down on his fur.

His phone buzzed to life at that moment.

**20:00**

**[Gamer rights]:** yo dude

 **[Gamer rights]:** wanted to let ya know

 **[Gamer rights]:** that ur parents fuckin suckkk

 **[Gamer rights]:** and that u wont end up alone

 **[Gamer rights]:** sojiro and i are there for u

 **[Gamer rights]:** sorry but i listened in btw 

**[Gamer rights]:** couldnt stay silent n shit

 **[Gamer rights]:** u got sojiro n me n ann n shiho n ryuji n makoto n inari n haru n morgana n sumi

 **[Gamer rights]:** n like

 **[Gamer rights]:** half of tokyo

 **[Gamer rights]:** that fuckin loves u man

 **[Gamer rights]:** aight?????

 **[Gamer rights]:** u even got mishina the npc

 **[Smooth criminal]:** *Mishima.

 **[Gamer rights]:** there he is

 **[Gamer rights]:** man of the hour

 **[Gamer rights]:** ily aight?

 **[Gamer rights]:** also also

 **[Gamer rights]:** i bet ur new friends dont succ

 **[Gamer rights]:** i bet theyre rlly chill

 **[Smooth criminal]:** I’m fine, Futaba.

 **[Smooth criminal]:** I love you too. A lot.

 **[Smooth criminal]:** And I miss you so much.

 **[Gamer rights]:** miss ya too man

 **[Smooth criminal]:** Tell me about your date with Sumire?

 **[Gamer rights]:** NOT A DATE

 **[Gamer rights]:** also who told u lmao

 **[Smooth criminal]:** Yusuke.

 **[Gamer rights]:** OH LMAO YOU WON’T BELIEVE THIS

 **[Gamer rights]:** get the cup ready sis im serving pipin hot tea here

 **[Smooth criminal]:** Tell me everything. -w-

  
  
  


**20:05**

**[Cougar]:** Hi Aki!!!!!

 **[Cougar]:** How are you??? what’s up???

 **[Cougar]:** Hows life like, treating you????

 **[Smooth criminal]:** Hey Ann. nwn

 **[Smooth criminal]:** Futaba sent you, huh.

 **[Cougar]:** Oh no!!! was it that obvious???? 

**[Cougar]:** But like, I really wanted to talk to you too!!!

 **[Smooth criminal]:** I know! I know. Don’t worry.

 **[Cougar]:** She told me your parents were being shitty?????

 **[Cougar]:** What happened?????

He quickly explained what had happened before.

**[Cougar]:** What!!!!!

 **[Cougar]:** Screw them!!!!!!

 **[Cougar]:** Akira that’s not true!!!!! You know that right?????

 **[Cougar]:** I’m here for you!!!!

He couldn’t help the small smile forming in his face. “See? Lady Ann knows it’s not true. And Lady Ann is really intelligent, so she knows what she’s talking about.” Morgana mumbled, watching the phone alongside Akira.

He had chosen the right family.

  
  
  


**21:46**

**[Cat lover 3000] added [Smooth criminal] to the group chat “The cult of the meat dimension”**

**[Cat lover 3000]:** Welcome, Akira-kun.

 **[Cat lover 3000]:** To the sillyzone.

* * *

**21:00**

**\--Investigation Team--**

**(Chad Narukami ; Partner <3 ; Black belt ; *Fans self* ; Teddie ; Tiny detective ; The X factor ; Crochet master)**

**[Chad Narukami]:** You may be wondering why I’ve gathered you all here.

 **[Tiny detective]:** did something happen?

 **[Black belt]:** is this about the persona kid??????

 **[Tiny detective]:** persona kid?

 **[Black belt]:** yeah we met this kid

 **[Chad Narukami]:** Absolute child. Untapped potential.

 **[Partner <3]: **got a prsn 

**[Partner <3]: **we thnk he a pt

 **[Tiny detective]:** yosuke, it’s been almost a decade since texting limits are no longer a problem. could you speak in full sentences for once? I can’t understand what you’re saying.

 **[Chad Narukami]:** We met a kid a few days ago, he has a persona, and we have reasons to believe he could have been part of the phantom thieves that were acting last year.

 **[Partner <3]: **wht he said

 **[Tiny detective]:** oh.

 **[Tiny detective]:** then,

 **[Partner <3]: **also his cat talks

 **[Tiny detective]:** wait what.

 **[*Fans self*]:** Oh, the black and white cat? He did seem more intelligent than a normal cat, now that I think about it.

 **[Chad Narukami]:** Yeah, the cat talks.

 **[Black belt]:** oh im not crazy!

 **[Black belt]:** i SWORE i could hear him? but i didnt know if others had yknow

 **[Black belt]:** and i thought maybe i hit my head in practice too hard or something!!

 **[Chad Narukami]:** Okay, now that we all know the cat talks,

 **[Crochet master]:** A CAT THAT TALKS?

 **[Crochet master]:** NAOTO IS THAT YOU USING THE HOT WATER BTW?

 **[Tiny detective]:** yes its me, don’t worry.

 **[Partner <3]: **sup w the hot h2o??

 **[Tiny detective]:** don’t say water like that ever again.

 **[Crochet master]:** WE HAVE A PIPE PROBLEM, THEY WON’T FIX IT TILL NEXT WEEK

 **[Chad Narukami]:** Oh, you have a problem with your pipes?

 **[Chad Narukami]:** Make sure to check that thoroughly. ;-)

 **[Black belt]:** yu why!!!!!

 **[Chad Narukami]:** Anyways.

 **[Chad Narukami]:** Cat.

 **[Chad Narukami]:** Do we tell Akira we can hear his cat.

 **[Teddie]:** WHAT!!!! YOU GUYS HAVE A NEW MASCOT????? AND ITS NOT ME????? :( :(

 **[Teddie]:** NO!!!!!!! Dx

 **[Chad Narukami]:** Nobody could ever replace you, Teddie.

 **[Teddie]:** THANK YOU SENSEI!!!!!! :3

 **[Chad Narukami]:** Again, do we tell Akira we can hear his cat.

 **[Partner <3]: **im ok w it

 **[Black belt]:** i don’t see why not!

 **[Tiny detective]:** are we recruiting this kid, yu? otherwise i don’t believe it to be convenient to tell him if he hasn’t told you first. 

**[Chad Narukami]:** He can join us if he wants, I won’t pressure him.

 **[*Fans self*]:** I don’t mind telling him, I believe he deserves to know there are other persona users he can rely on.

 **[Crochet master]:** KID DESERVES TO KNOW THE TRUTH 

**[Crochet master]:** BUT ID RECRUIT HIM TOO

 **[Crochet master]:** OR AT LEAST WAIT A BIT AND THEN TELL HIM

 **[The X factor]:** What’s this about a talking cat?

* * *

  
  
  


The chair he was in felt so uncomfortable, but he didn’t know if it was from the nerves, or if it actually was like that.

“Tell me,” He began calmly, composed. In between his boss’ hands was an intricate knife, passing it from one side to the other. “How hard is it to kidnap a single brat?”

“Sir, the place was full of people, I couldn’t just grab the kid and not be noticed, he would’ve shouted and someone would’ve come-”

“Then you knock him out, and carry him.” He interrupted.

“I couldn’t-”

“ **YES, YOU COULD.** ” He violently thrust the knife on the table, digging the sharp blade into the solid wood right in between his fingers with a loud thud. He barely had time to react, his head whipping up in shock, only to find himself staring right at his boss’ eyes. 

“Now tell me again.” He said calmly, despite the absolute hatred in his stare. “How hard is it to kidnap a single brat?”

“N-not at all, sir.”

“Then why,” He pulled the knife off of the table with ease. “Did you spend time threatening an old lady instead of doing your job?”

“It was a mistake, sir.”

“Yes, yes it was. So I assume now that you’re going to correct it. Grab him, talk to him. If he doesn’t cooperate, use the other method. Easy as that.”

“But isn’t the kid-”

“Don’t question me.”

“Yes sir, I’m sorry sir.”

“You have a week.” He moved away, his face scrunched up in a mixture of uninterest and disdain, turning to get himself a drink. “Now get out of my sight.”

The moment he was finally outside, he took a moment to breathe. He wasn’t sure why the brat was necessary, they had assassins, older and with better training, that had pledged loyalty to Shido a long time ago and wouldn’t falter. Better, more resourceful. If they needed a mole, they had many more than a mediatic kid. There was a piece of the puzzle of information he had been given that was missing. 

He guessed he would find out once he got it out of the brat himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome
> 
> to the sillyzone


	9. chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goro goes to a bar in sumaru city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 90% more goro, in a shorter chapter. We introduce someone else.

**23:15**

**[Cat lover 3000]:** Akira-kun.

**[Cat lover 3000]:** You have lived all your life here except for a year.

**[Smooth criminal]:** Yes?

**[Cat lover 3000]:** AND YOU HAVEN’T HAD THE RAINY DAY BEEF BOWL CHALLENGE?

**[Cat lover 3000]:** H O W.

**[Smooth criminal]:** My parents don’t like chinese food.

**[Cat lover 3000]:** This is outrageous.

**[Cat lover 3000]:** We’re correcting this mistake.

**[Cat lover 3000]:** You’re having lunch with us. It says on the weather forecast it’s going to be raining next Friday. Are you free that day?

Akira couldn’t believe his eyes. He was.. he was being invited to have lunch with the coolest group of people he had met outside of his Tokyo friends. 

It would make his parents incredibly mad, as a bonus.

**[Smooth criminal]:** Of course! That’d be amazing! nwn

  
  
  
  


**23:30**

**\--The cult of the meat dimension--**

**(Cat lover 3000 ; Retail comrade ; Chie :) ; Yukiko Amagi ; ??? ; ??? ; ??? ; ??? )**

**[Cat lover 3000]:** Fellow meat lovers.

**[Cat lover 3000]:** I’ve been informed of a tragedy.

**[???]:** a tragedy?

**[Cat lover 3000]:** Yes.

**[Cat lover 3000]:** Our newest member, Akira-kun.

**[Chie :)]:** did we scare him off after two days of memes??

**[Cat lover 3000]:** No. He’s still here.

**[Smooth criminal]:** I’m still here. nwn

**[Cat lover 3000]:** Anyways.

**[Cat lover 3000]:** This poor kid.

**[Smooth criminal]:** The poorest. unu

**[Cat lover 3000]:** Has never in his life.

**[Cat lover 3000]:** Tasted the rainy day beef bowl challenge.

**[Chie :)]:** WHAT!

**[Chie :)]:** we’re correcting that!! stat!!

  
  
  
  


**09:15**

**\--Investigation Team--**

**(Chad Narukami ; Partner <3 ; Black belt ; *Fans self* ; Teddie ; Tiny detective ; The X factor ; Crochet master)**

**[Crochet master]:** OKAY SO LET ME GO OVER THIS THING AGAIN

**[Crochet master]:** WE INVITE THE KID TO HAVE LUNCH WITH ALL OF US

**[Crochet master]:** THEN WE DROP THE CAT BOMB ON HIM???

**[Chad Narukami]:** Yes. We’re having the beef bowl challenge, and while we’re bonding over the taste of the meat, we tell him, “Oh, by the way. We know your cat talks. It’s cool, we’re persona users too”.

**[Tiny detective]:** that sounds like the fastest way to overwhelm this kid and make him shut us all out.

**[The X factor]:** It sounds to me like the most dramatic way! I’m in.

**[Tiny detective]:** of course you’re in.

**[Teddie]:** OOOOOOOH, DRAMA!!!!!!! I’M IN, I’M IN!!!!!! :D >:D

**[Partner <3]: ** srry prtnr im w naonao on this 1

**[Tiny detective]:** thank you, yosuke. never call me naonao again.

**[Chad Narukami]:** I’m severely wounded, Yosuke.

**[Partner <3]: ** lmao no ur not

**[Chad Narukami]:** Yes, yes I am. Mortally wounded by your lack of support.

**[Chad Narukami]:** You’ll have to kiss better my wounds. ;-)

**[Partner <3]: ** shut up lmao ur fine

**[Partner <3]: ** hw bout

**[Partner <3]: ** we g slwer bout it

**[Chad Narukami]:** I don’t want to lie to him. I like him, he’s a fun kid.

**[*Fans self*]:** I am with Yu on this one. It’s better to get it out of the way as soon as possible, and if he does shut us out, then we can rebuild a bond on the basis of truth.

**[Partner <3]: ** i wasnt sayin nvr tell him

**[Partner <3]: ** jst lik txtng him or sumn not th whole drmtic lunch speech thng

**[Tiny detective]:** please use full words, yosuke. but it could be through a text, yes, or yu himself could tell him without all of us behind to overwhelm him. i’d also wait a while, or at least slowly ease him into it.

**[Black belt]:** i vote for the lunch option!!

**[Black belt]:** just throw it out there, and get it over with!!

**[Crochet master]:** I'M WITH NAOTO

**[The X factor]:** Of course you are, Ka-chan.

**[Crochet master]:** WE SHOULD WAIT A BIT FOR HIM TO FEEL ALRIGHT WITH US. BUT WE SHOULD TELL HIM OF COURSE

**[Partner <3]: ** hw bout

**[Partner <3]: ** we drop hints or sumn

**[Crochet master]:** OH THAT'S A GOOD ONE

**[Chad Narukami]:** We could do the hints thing. Over lunch.

**[Chad Narukami]:** We’re introducing Akira to mega beef bowls. That’s final, and non negotiable.

**[Tiny detective]:** well, its been a while since either kanji or i had one of those. i’m in, as long as the kid isnt overwhelmed in the process.

**[Crochet master]:** SAME, I'M ALL UP FOR THE HINTS, AND IF IT COMES UP, IT COMES UP

**[Crochet master]:** AND WE TELL HIM ALL

**[Crochet master]:** BUT IF IT DOESN'T WE TELL HIM SLOWLY

**[Chad Narukami]:** Sounds like a solid plan. Any comments, questions?

**[Partner <3]: ** nope all good

**[Black belt]:** i still think we should just tell him

**[Black belt]:** but!! i’m not gonna say no to a good beef bowl and getting to know a new friend!!

**[*Fans self*]:** As long as we don’t take too long to tell the kid. It’s not fair to withhold the knowledge that he has support in us. For all we know, he could be completely alone.

**[Chad Narukami]:** If he was a phantom thief like we suspect, he didn’t act alone. But I get what you mean, Yukiko. The plan is to tell him. And  **@Teddie** , please don’t pressure him into joining us.

**[Teddie]:** OKAY SENSEI!!!!!! I’LL ZIP MY MOUTH SHUT AAAAAALL THE WAY!!!!!! :D

**[Chad Narukami]: @The X factor** Rise? Are you okay with it?

**[The X factor]:** I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it, senpai. I’m sorry, everyone! But if I can, I’ll be there.

**[Partner <3]: ** we kno ur busy rise s cool

**[The X factor]:** Thanks for understanding. <3

* * *

Goro’s “adventures” as an engineering student didn’t end that week because he was too stubborn to let a simple man stop him. So what if he wasn’t liked? The last remnants of being truly liked had died in a bathtub alongside his mother when he was a little kid, and  _ no _ , Akira’s  _ pity _ didn’t count. 

He knew what it was like to be hated.

That didn’t stop Goro from agonizing for a whole week, though. 

There had been  _ something  _ of great importance in that man, he was sure of it, because he had  _ never _ felt that sensation touching someone before. Not attraction, nor disgust, nor kindred, even. It was as if he had met a family member he hadn’t been previously aware of, and said family member happened to have a bias towards slicing his head off. Even worse, something in that fleeting touch had left him knowing this man had power,  _ a lot of it _ , and yet he was wasting it on teaching engineering specified math to a bunch of college aged children. 

_ You also have power, so much of it, and yet here you are, being one of those college aged children! _

Well, yes, but Goro had a  _ reason _ to be one of those, and said reason was not getting murdered by a bunch of “make Japan great again” enthusiasts. What did Prettyman professor have as an excuse? He really, really wanted to know, if only for the sole reason that he was a detective at heart, and math really wasn’t as boring as he had thought before after the man had explained, so he had to be some sort of supernatural creature.

Math, it turned out, was methodical, precise, and left Goro with a satisfaction that was very needed in these trying times where his entire life was coated in a thick layer of uncertainty.

So far this year, then, he had discovered four things about himself that weren’t metaverse powers, far more than ever before, really:

  * He liked cleaning, and the habit had stuck even after leaving Chiyo-san behind.



  * Naps weren’t all that bad.



  * Math wasn’t that bad, either. It could actually be enjoyable in its monotony.



  * He had a huge fucking scar on his back.



And it  _ itched _ , horribly, a piece of flesh that the moment Goro had become aware of it, he couldn’t become unaware of anymore. 

It followed him everywhere he went, the shadow of a past life of mistakes, of violence and regret, that would follow him until he either stood low enough to test his theory of whether or not he could force death to take him back, or he died of some other cause unrelated to the growing discomfort in the back of his mind. 

Either way, the huge amount that revenge had occupied in his brain was now empty.

Too empty.

And despair was taking root in there, an imitation of the scar on his back, tendrils of marred thoughts trying to knit together and repair themselves after the bitter bullet had been removed, but failing, creating layer after layer of itchy, raised thoughts he would only acknowledge at two am laying on a dingy mattress in the new hotel he had decided to stay at.

On Tuesday, he had gone to sleep without gloves. 

On Wednesday, he woke up with blood caked under his fingernails and a sleeping shirt ruined. He didn’t acknowledge any of it, simply threw the shirt into a garbage can and bought another.

  
  


He replayed the small touch of the Friday before over and over as he stared at his bare hands in the shower, thought of cat eyes narrowing in a show of hostility that had been natural, thought of the placating smile put on right after for the sake of keeping some semblance of normalcy.

  
  
  


Despite his numbness, he was pleased to find out rubbing alcohol still burnt when applied to open skin.

He wondered if the ship where he should have died was navigating on water, or if the red waters were actually acid.

He wondered if they were blood.

He wondered how acid would feel, if it was anything like the screams of that kid back at the institution who had swallowed bleach. 

If it was anything like how shadows would dissolve under his feet.

He wondered if he deserved it.

He spent a little too long on Satomi Tadashi’s cleaning aisle, staring at the white bottles. 

They stared back.

  
  
  
  


He left the store without looking back, thinking of a way to get a list of therapist numbers to call.

If it didn’t risk his entire escape attempt, he would’ve called Chiyo-san for recommendations.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


On Thursday, instead of staring at possibly life ending bottles, he decided to visit Sumaru Prison for jazz night. 

At least he could revive an old hobby, do something that wasn’t overtaken by the numbness rotting away his brain yet. 

Perhaps replace those memories of Jazz Jin with the bumping legs and the bitter cold of a reality that was so happy it had made Goro miserable, and turn a new leaf.

A blank slate where the blood in his hands could finally dry.

And so, off he went.

It turned out Sumaru prison was a basement bar, just like Jazz Jin, but the similarities ended there. 

Goro found himself in a larger than expected mixture of metal, glass and wood, as if inside their imprisonment, the criminal had found themselves a newfound reason to have hope in spite of their despair. It was in the details, the way cold metal allowed warm wood in the form of a stage, the ceiling that broke itself and transformed as it got deeper inside the bar, the plants that decorated the back of the bar itself that all seemed to somehow be connected to remainders of death (he didn’t know much about flower language, but he had seen enough movies and read enough books to know most flowers in display happened to be common in funeral arrangements both western and japanese), the lighting that shone in between that same commotion of nature and booze bottles and over them, a sign that simply read “ **here’s to a better tomorrow** ” in slick neon letters. 

It was even in the bartender themselves, a human that didn’t quite look so, and whether it was because of the long black nails, the white hair or the perpetually teasing look, Goro wasn’t sure. 

But the place was  _ alive _ , buzzing with activity, chatter filling the space, making it feel strangely homely. 

There was an arcade machine painted black in a corner, where a bunch of people were gathered, two intensely playing mortal kombat, the others cheering on. At another spot, there was a ping pong table, similarly crowded. On the stage there was a man getting things ready for the upcoming show.

The people themselves? They looked like they rightly belonged in that mess of an establishment. Some questionable fashion choices had been made in some tables, right next to the most fashion forward people Goro had ever seen, right next to those that seemed to have just come out of either an office or a college lecture. A clash.

Odd, but fascinating.

He wondered out of who’s mind had come out such an eclectic place, and how in the world they had managed to make it so successful as he sat down at the bar to order something non alcoholic. He wasn’t in the mood to try his luck with alcohol, in case the numbness tried advancing. 

_ Are you scared you’ll think too much?  _ His mind teased, in a voice that didn’t seem entirely his own.

He didn’t answer that thought, instead focusing on the way the mocktail was served to him with a practised flourish.

It was red. 

The color felt oddly disturbing at that moment, like a grim reminder nestled in between funerary flowers and sweetly threatening neon messages. He downed it anyways, the thick texture rolling against his tongue, cranberry flavor filling anything it touched, drowning the bitterness that had been accumulating inside his mouth the whole week.

He put it down with a sigh of relief, and turned to look at the stage the moment the lights lowered.

From in between the shadows stepped out a young woman dressed in blue and white, black hair cascading down her shoulders, freckles covering her face. She leaned against the microphone with a sweet quirk of her scarlet lips, playful black eyes scanning the room.

“Good evening, Sumaru City! How is everyone tonight?” A few cheers erupted from some tables at the front, and Goro rolled his eyes, tapping his fingers against the glass as if that would make the introduction go by faster. 

“It’s been a while since I last saw your beautiful faces! I missed you!” More cheers. “It seems you missed me too! But you’re here for the music and not to hear me talk, aren't cha?” She gave the audience a flirtatious wink. They responded with enthusiasm, but Goro had yet to see the appeal in a jazz singer that spent more time introducing her act than actually singing, and he had the suspicion said act was going to be subpar at most.

“For those who don’t know me, my name is Uno Ayase, and this is Downtown funk!”

_ Finally. _

There was silence, then it began.

Acid jazz filled the bar, the beat fast and flirtatious, building from a few notes up into a full out jam session, her singing accompanied by the slight wave of her hips and the bobbing of the musician’s heads. Goro found himself tapping along as he drank from the mocktail, and for a small moment, there wasn’t numbness, regret, panic or anxiety. 

There was only jazz, in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

It was a pleasant surprise really, as he had underestimated her from the moment she had appeared on stage, but it seemed as if Sumaru City would keep surprising him over and over, and not all surprises were going to be bad. As the beat built up and transformed, turned and returned, collapsed next to sweet words Goro would come to find out were actually about struggle and oppression, a cry to overcome difficulties and keep going despite it all, he found himself unraveling as well, bitter thoughts giving space for enjoyment, at least for a little while. 

For once, he was glad to have been proven wrong.

The bartender was polishing a glass along to the beat, their lips pulled into a satisfied grin, eyes meeting with Goro’s for a moment. “Enjoying yourself?” They asked him with a knowing look, grin widening even further. He nodded, giving them a light shrug, and a smile that.. actually felt genuine.

A few years ago, a stylist, while laughing, had told him his natural smile looked disturbing, and if he please could smile a little more “normal”. 

A few seconds ago, a random bartender in the middle of an unknown city told Goro Akechi, the one who tried over and over not to look disgusting for years only to fail over and over, at the sight of his rare natural smile, with complete sincerity in their features,

“ _ Oh whoa, aren’t you a pretty one? You have a nice smile, darling. _ ”

…

Oh.

This person didn’t know him, didn’t owe him jack shit. They didn’t know his mother and therefore didn’t carry that guilt, they seemed way outside of Shido’s influence, and he looked nothing like the teen idol he used to be, so they couldn’t be after that either. There was no Metaverse rivalry, no survivor’s guilt at the sight of his upcoming death. 

He had already paid and tipped.

It was a compliment born out of nothing but an observation.

It made Goro happier than he cared to admit.

“Thank you.”

They shrugged. “I’m saying what I see.” They offered Goro another smile, then went to welcome another client that had come up to the bar. 

As the song transformed itself into a new one, he found himself smiling for longer than he had in a long time, and for once, he didn’t bother to think how ugly it could possibly be to others in the establishment. After all, he happily realised, nobody was looking at him.

Nobody cared.

And he  _ loved it _ .

  
  
  
  


He got out of Sumaru Prison a few hours later with a new artist to look up, the leftover taste of cranberry on his tongue, and the promise to himself of becoming a regular there. 

Well, the bartender did know what to say to make clients come back, that was for sure.

His smile vanished as he got out and into the night, once the streetlights shone on his face, once the music was gone. 

But it had been there.

  
  
  
  
  


On Thursday, he had gone to sleep without gloves on.

  
  


On Friday, there was no dried blood waiting for him the moment he woke up. 

The numb feeling in the back of his mind didn’t disappear, but at least the night before had helped as a distraction, dissipating the feeling for long enough that Goro could actually get moving with his investigation on Prettyman professor and the strange moment they had shared the Friday before.

With a whole week of freaking out behind him, and finally some sort of distraction, Goro could face the facts a little better. 

As he made his way towards the university, he made a quick background check, picking up from the past Saturday, when he had begun looking around, careful not to give away his existence in the process of finding information about someone else. 

**Jun Kashihara, 37,** a renowned professor at the institution and apparently an inventor in his spare time. No criminal record, but had been a witness in a murder case a decade ago and a key factor in the subsequent imprisonment of the perpetrator. 

( _ he would have to look into that. _ )

A private man, there didn’t seem to exist many pictures of him floating around the net, and the ones that did exist didn’t seem to be taken by himself, but taken by others. It was mildly surprising, as well, to find out that more than one account with a blue checkmark seemed to know the man, displaying tagged pictures where he was in the background, giving a friendly smile to the camera.

In the great majority of those pictures, too, he seemed to be accompanied by another man, but the nature of their relationship truly couldn’t be discerned, as they kept their distance and made no gestures that would indicate something or the other. A family friend, perhaps? A brother? A cousin?

They had no common features, yet pictures kept coming up of them together, dating as far as a whole decade before.

_ Or maybe he’s gay and that’s his partner. _

_ Huh. _

Goro would love to assume that in the millons of people living in the conservative country of Japan he happened to have found a fellow gay person who happened to be his professor and had had a strange contact with, but that was, honestly?  _ Ridiculous _ . 

He could count with the fingers of his right hand the amount of gay people he had seen in his life, and one of them he wasn’t even sure. (A tv interviewer, a kid at the last institution he had been at, one of his first stylists, a neighbor in his apartment complex, _ Akira _ . He had never asked Akira about it, but he could guess he at least had  _ some _ attraction to men from their interactions.)

Either way, the strangest thing about the man, aside from the shadow of a man following him everywhere and his particular taste in subtly themed button up shirts (who knew someone could make a shirt out of mathematical formulas? And that it could actually look good?) were his  **connections** . 

Those, were truly perplexing.

There was absolutely no connection to Shido, in any shape or form, but the mess of connections didn’t stop from being perplexing anyways.

People that made no sense knowing each other all followed Kashihara-sensei, and regularly interacted with him, from **Maya Amano** , the director of Coolest Magazine to _the_ **Hidehiko Uesugi** , beloved talk show host, to even the old leader of a now defunct visual kei band and now renowned chef and restaurant owner, **Eikichi Mishina**.

It.. didn’t make sense.

It all made the mystery even stranger, and made Goro stare at him even harder the moment he walked into the lecture hall.

Those cat eyes scanned the crowd once more, as if searching. 

Goro kept staring, making his back stand up even straighter,  _ defying.  _ There was something wrong with this man, and he was going to get to the bottom of it, if at least to distract himself from the growing despair in his mind. If he happened to unravel a whole conspiracy on what sushi chefs had to do with talk hosts and math teachers, even better.

He got a minuscule glare right back the moment he was spotted.

  
  


Class went smoothly anyways, he even raised his hand a few times to ask questions and got answers back with a friendly tone, but the hostility was there to stay, and showed no signs of stopping. 

Well, two could play this game, and luckily for Kashihara-sensei, Goro was a professional.

  
  


Hours passed by.

As Goro glanced around the room after the longest staredown so far with Kashihara-sensei of the entire hour, he found himself making eye contact with Julia Schwartz, the foreign girl from the class before, who had sat a few rows behind him this time, and was subtly waving at him. 

_ What does she want?  _

He gave her a small wave back.

She, in response, made a series of gestures, which he failed to understand, but were made clear the moment he stood up to get out of the hall, only to be stopped by her. “Amamiya! Wait up!” She called, when he was moving through the sea of leaving people. She ran towards him, smiling, and he waited for her to start speaking. “So! I couldn’t ask this before, but. Would you like to join our study group? So you aren’t alone for your first year! I’m not a first year myself, but! there are a few guys and girls who are, and we could all together help each other.”

He simply.. stared at her, a little confused.

There was no benefit for what she was asking of him.

No reward for him, no reward for her, aside from some minuscule help gotten out of collective brainstorming.

He didn’t  _ have _ to socialize with anyone, if he wanted.

_ A monster like you doesn’t make friends. _

_ You ruined all your chances to make friends the moment you killed your first victim. _

_ People only pity you or want you dead. _

_ You’d be better dead, so you don’t keep ruining life after life. _

_ Or perhaps you could start being useful again, and pick up killing once more. _

_ It’s all you’re good for. _

_ It’s all you’re good for. _

_ It’s all you’re good fo- _

“Sure.”

  
  
  
  


They left the hall together, having shared contact information, and leaving Goro without the opportunity to be antagonistic with his professor once more.

Well, he could wait another week.

He felt the man’s eyes on him, but didn’t look back as he made his way out.

* * *

  
  


As he watched the kid leave with his friend, he narrowed his eyes. 

_ Once again they were using kids, huh. _

He couldn’t help the slight pang of anger down his throat, and tried not to clench his teeth together, as he really didn’t want to go through another lecture from his dentist.

He took a deep breath, to calm himself down. The last thing he wanted, really, had been to let the kid know he was aware of  _ what _ he was, but it seemed he had failed, as said kid had spent his class staring at him with painfully worn and inquisitive eyes.

He knew that look a little too well.

**Jun Kurosu also knew three very important things:**

  * Coincidences when personas were involved don’t exist, they never do, it’s usually part of some sick game. There had to be a reason why this persona user had landed on his class of all things. 



  * No matter how innocent the kid looked, the moment he had touched him he had known him to be bad news, very bad news, as bad news as when he had been _young and brainwashed_.



  * He was having _none_ of it.



**_Not again._ **

( _ He hoped he was misreading it all and it was just another tactic by Nanjo or Kirijo to get Tatsuya and himself back as active members of their little project. Something on the kid, however, told him this wasn’t the case. _ )

He pulled out his phone, taking a moment to look at his home screen, a picture of himself and Tatsuya in New Years 2016, in matching outfits and raising two cups, Tatsuya’s cheeks stained a deep red and a grin displayed on his face. One of his favorite pictures, if only for the way his partner was smiling, a smile that to this day still lit up Jun’s world. 

They had fought  **_so much_ ** for moments like that, and he wasn’t letting the supernatural ruin his life once more if he had any say in it.

“ _ Jun? _ ” There was a tinge of worry in his voice the moment Tatsuya picked up, as it was unusual for Jun to call him when both were at work.

“Tacchi? Can you meet me for coffee in an hour? It’s important.” Right in time for Tatsuya's break. 

  
  


“ _ Of course. _ ” 

* * *

  
  


A week wasn't a long time, especially when one had absolutely no leads on the location of a single brat. Bank movements had ceased entirely since the last time he had been spotted in Tokyo, his phone was dead, and there seemed to be no movement in and out of his apartment. It was as if the brat had gotten up and vanished from existence, but no corpses had been found either, so he had to be  _ somewhere.  _

His only option, then, would be to check on his past.

He would start with Chiyo Nakamura, owner of the Women’s refuge Akechi had stayed in for approximately two months, and from there, go backwards. 

Check old phone receipts, subway tickets, past bank movements. Ask around for contacts.

_ Contacts. _

There had been someone, he had been told before, that Akechi had spent a lot of time with. 

If he managed to track that other brat down, maybe he could locate him. He had been instructed to take only the Akechi kid to his boss, so the other was useless for anything other than information, but if he proved  _ difficult _ , he could always be removed.

He was on a tight schedule, after all.

He turned to make a few phone calls, and ended up setting a meeting with someone who could get him the information he needed by Tuesday. 

From there, all he would have to do is follow the lead. 

If everything went well, he would have the brat with him before the following Sunday.

  
  


* * *

"It's getting long." He said softly, as his hand messed with the brown locks, curling them on his long fingers, giving them a playful little tug. The corners of his partner's lips lifted up a little in response, leaning his head against the cold hand. 

Their eyes locked for a moment, as if the cafe that surrounded them was nonexistent, the meal was unimportant, and the people around were merely a backdrop to their story. Silence passed between them, a comfortable one, content with just being in each other’s presence, basking in what, really, couldn’t be taken for granted. His hand continued with his ministrations, as if he hadn’t done the same thing in the morning before they went their separate ways for the day. 

It was a soothing gesture, grounding them both in the reality that  _ yes _ , they had managed to stay together after so long, and  _ no _ , this wasn’t another fucked up dream.

Their silent little world, however, was broken when Tatsuya’s deep voice gently stated “Your coffee’s getting cold”, as if Jun cared about that and not his still lingering disbelief that he landed himself a husband who looked like  _ that _ . 

He rolled his eyes, letting go of his partner’s hair and moved back to his own part of the table, to take a gentle sip of the coffee that was surprisingly good this time. 

He closed his eyes, giving an appreciative hum. “It seems we’ve finally found a good spot.” The other nodded, grabbing a fork and not so gently stabbing the piece of cake he had ordered. “Is it good?” Jun wondered aloud, which was a thinly veiled request for some of his cake. Tatsuya shrugged his shoulders and simply scooped a bit, handing the fork to Jun. It was sweet, the cream surprisingly not too full of sugar, unlike the many they had tried before in their quest to find a cafe that both didn’t get them glanced at and was actually good. 

His eyes glanced around at the crowd. 

Once he found nobody was paying attention to them, they were in a slightly hidden spot after all, he gave the fork a quick little lick, looking at Tatsuya as he did it. It only earned him a fond snort that resembled more a purring engine, and a silent plea for his fork back, hand stretched out, which Jun answered by going ahead and placing it against Tatsuya's lips. 

They actually would have to do this more often, it was a pretty nice break from the tension and monotony of both of their jobs.

But they knew they weren’t there as a change of pace, were they.

“How was everything?” Tatsuya asked, prompting Jun to talk about the reason he had called. 

He picked up on it immediately.

"So, I have a new student who keeps staring at me." 

“You’re very good at explaining stuff, and you're gorgeous. I don't see who wouldn't.” That made him pause, and give his partner a fond little grin. “Sure, a random middle aged man is so interesting.” 

“You’re thirty seven, middle age is fifty.” he corrected, taking another bite of the cake. 

“God,  _ Tacchi _ , we’re so old.” 

“You’re using God’s name in vain.” Tatsuya’s voice resembled an old lady for a second, reminding them both of the time he had mumbled  _ ‘Goddamnit.’ _ in the grocery store while looking for where they had relocated the cleaning supply aisle, only to find himself with a lady who proceeded, for a full minute mind you, to talk his ear off about ‘not disrespecting the Lord’s name’ before Tatsuya finally managed to see where the cleaning supplies were and dashed straight to them. 

“And you punched one on the face.” Jun reminded him, a smirk on his face and a lower cadence to his voice, just to tease him. 

_ Oh. _

_ They were touching that subject, weren’t they. _

“He deserved it.” mumbled Tatsuya, who wasn’t afraid to admit that Jun’s little smirks did  _ something _ to him, but he was pretty sure they weren't here for elaborate foreplay, as the mention of  _ that _ incident usually carried something behind. “So-'' He looked away from his husband, prolonged exposure to that expression made him do and say silly things, and he just couldn’t grab him and kiss him in that moment because people were there, and he really didn’t want to deal with judgement today, and it seemed like they were going to talk about something serious enough to make Jun call him and not wait till Tatsuya was home the following morning, as he would have the night shift that Friday. 

_ Focus. No kissing, focus. _ “This kid.” 

“Ah, yes, well.” Jun looked away, expression souring. “Don’t be alarmed,” 

Tatsuya was, of course, immediately alarmed. 

“But, the students gave me the day’s assignments back, and I felt something on the kid. A  _ resonance.  _ **_The_ ** _ resonance. _ ” His eyes sharpened the moment he said that, and Tatsuya turned to look at his husband with a mix of doubt and worry, not because he didn’t trust Jun’s word, he trusted Jun with his entire life, but because he really wasn’t in the mood to deal with that fuckery all over again, not when they had fought so hard to get a relatively normal life, and even harder to  _ keep it _ .

"It couldn't just be one of Nanjo's agents, right?" Jun shook his head, expression slowly sombering even further. "They would just call us, Tacchi. Maya-nee would let us know at least in that subtle not so subtle way of hers.”

It was true, if it was them, his sister in law would send them a cryptic email, at least, to tease them that she knew something they didn’t, with that ruining the entire prank but reassuring them that nothing strange was going on. He pulled out his phone, checking if he had any new emails. 

He didn’t. 

He turned to look back at Jun, who was looking back at him with a worried look.

“What about Kirijo?” Jun shook his head. 

“No, this kid.. he. He worries me, Tacchi. He seems to have made a friend, at least, but he looks.. he looks how I used to look. I doubt Kirijo makes their agents miserable enough for him to have that expression on his face.”

That took him back slightly.

Jun didn’t speak up again, but he didn’t need to. They both knew this could be serious. Tatsuya put his hand on top of Jun’s, his thumb lightly rubbing circles over it.

_ I’m here. _

He tilted his head with a soft smile, grabbing Tatsuya’s hand and lacing their fingers together.

_ I know. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wonder what's up with the different surnames
> 
> also wonder how this whole thing will culminate  
> ("is this going somewhere?" you may ask. to that i say, my dear reader, yes, yes it is. itll take a while but we'll get there lmao)


	10. chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An exploration of sexuality and loneliness, as we almost catch up to Goro in timestamps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and the pain keeps coming lmao   
> no cameos or new characters this time!

For the entire weekend, Futaba didn't reach out to Sumire. 

It proved to be harder than she had expected.

Ann, like the blessed beautiful angel that she was - _ all hail the queen of the lesbians- _ , had helped her calm down and come up with a plan. The plan? Meet up with Sumire, explain that no, she wasn't with Inari, laugh the possible awkwardness off, and if the opportunity arose, flirt a little. And if she was too scared of doing it on her face? She could call Sumire or text her! It was simple, easy to follow, and Futaba already knew she was going to  _ royally fuck it up _ .

So the moment Ann ended the conversation to go to bed, she was already freaking out once more.

The issue was  _ there,  _ and while it would’ve been easy to just outright call her and shout “ _ Hi, yes Yusuke isn’t my boyfriend he’s more like my brother and awesome pal whom I once saw completely covered in red paint while whispering to himself about aesthetics and all I did was throw him a towel cause he’s just like  _ **_that_ ** _ , y’know? As for myself I am very single, and very available for hot redheads, just so you know. But if you’re straight and into Inari it’s cool dude, totally cool he isn’t into you tho sorry. _ ” It would also be incredibly awkward to do that, and she didn’t trust herself with being able to successfully pull it off with the confidence that she had in her head. 

It felt as if she couldn’t bring it up by herself without either looking incredibly offended and weird (and honestly Yusuke didn’t deserve such a visceral reaction despite the idea of them being together like that feeling _ wrong.  _ She loved him, just not like that.), or too desperate for Sumire.

And well, yes, she was desperate, but she wasn’t going to  _ outright say it! _

So, she spent her Saturday sulking in front of her computer and watching anime like the queen of emotional stability and good communication that she was.

But at the third homoerotic staredown between the protagonist and his rival which the studio would deny it ever happened  _ what do you mean gay people exist and are complex human beings ahaha _ \- she couldn’t do this anymore. She really needed to clear it up before Sumire started commenting “couple goals!!!” on her Instagram feed.

“ **I wish our fights would last forever, they make me feel something I’ve never felt before.** ” The white haired twink on her screen said, in probably his last episode alive, and she felt a little bit of deja vu, but the circles her head was making didn’t let her pursue that train of thought. 

What if Sumire was sad because her crush - **Inari** \- was apparently taken?

Was she imagining a love triangle in her head and Futaba had only given her more fuel? Oh, at this point she could even imagine the anime opening for it, Sumire standing in a white and blue background with cherry blossoms leaving their petals all over her flowing hair, while she looked wistfully at Yusuke and Akira (-when had Akira appeared in this nightmarish scenario she wasn’t sure, but now there he was, as the cool senpai Sumire would forget in a metaphor for growing up and pursuing more meaningful relationships), while Futaba appeared in another shot, in black and purple, going “Fuhuhuhu” as she clung to Inari’s arm. 

  
She really hoped Sumire didn’t start looking at her with hostility.

It would be like a gut punch if that were the case.

What if Futaba gathered the courage to tell her everything, including her crush on her and she responded by being disgusted with her?

She could see it now, _ the way their friendship crumbled into nothingness thanks to her being stupid and saying too much, the expression in her face morphing from surprise to utter disgust- _

What if she didn’t confess at all, and doomed all her chances of ever knowing if there had even been hope of being with her?

_ She would get a boyfriend, tall and handsome and so much better than her in every way because she felt like a failure, and Oh God she would be invited to the wedding and she would have to go, and cry in the bathroom while texting Ann, except Ann would be off with her wife Shiho and she’d be all alone- _

What if things went horribly wrong??

_ And they stopped talking at all, Sumire awkwardly laughing it off and then ghosting her forever-  _

What if they went right?!

_ And she never took the chance to find out?!- _

This thing of being in a romance comedy truly was exhausting. 

She would’ve sued the writer of this mess if she could. 

The screen kept playing the show, illuminating her dark room, the blue light consuming everything it could.

Trash was accumulating again under her desk.

Her head felt like it was burning, but she knew it was just her sight, and perhaps the tears accumulating on her desk. 

The blue light, despite its insistence, couldn’t drive away most of the darkness engulfing her body.

  
  


Akira had laughed at her mess with Sumire, a soft snort rippling through the audio feed as she kept typing. They couldn’t straight up talk, not when Akira was with  _ them _ , with people who had only been useful to produce the genetic material needed for Akira to be there, but never a family, never a  _ real _ family. Her heart ached for her brother that really wasn’t, yearned to hear his voice in person once more, drag his ass back to Tokyo and hug him tightly till all the negativity he was currently being fed was out of his system.

Until her own negativity washed away too.

At least she was sure he would have enough money to come back to her. She had made sure of that, managed to find a discreet enough bank, next to Akechi’s old account, almost a weird way to keep them being rivals even after the guy was long gone.

Oh.

That’s what the anime reminded her of.

When a whole episode had passed by and she had absorbed none of it, she paused the video.

Darkness engulfed her further.

She had voiced some of her vague fears towards Akira, who immediately answered that he would stand by her if Sumire said something ugly about her sexuality. It made her feel a little better about her prospects, that she wouldn’t have to cry on her own if something happened and things went sour.

Damn, she loved Akira so much.

There was something that made her pause, however, and that was something he had commented in between his reassurance and advice to her.

Akira had asked if she was sure that Sumire was straight, a comment she would now have heard twice, both by Ann and by him.

  
  


Had they.. had they ever even talked about that?

  
  


Her eyes flickered towards the ceiling as she leaned back on her chair.

She thought of her beautiful smile, her passion when fighting. Those little snippets of a darker Sumire underneath all the shine that time she had spent a little too long at Leblanc and had decided to talk a little further than her usual pleasantness. She had been a nervous wreck at that moment, as the girl still felt a little unfamiliar to her, but. She came out of that conversation understanding her a little better, with a desire to form a friendship. The afternoon everything began, basically. But they hadn’t touched that subject at the time.

She hadn’t hung out much with the rest of the Phantom Thieves, either, instead mostly sticking with Akira, and during Dr. Maruki’s world ending middle life crisis, with Cockroach supreme Akechi even after she had woken up from her delusion.

She tried to search in between mental files of conversations, of any suggestion that she could possibly know.

The search came up empty.

**And that’s how Futaba Sakura realised she had never come out to Sumire Yoshizawa.**

A small weight settled inside her head, and her hands became slightly damp with sweat. As the clock turned from Saturday into Sunday, the gears in her head kept turning at the realisation.

She held her head with a finger against her temple, her eyes opening further and further thinking about the process it would be to muster up the courage to do something like that.

  
  


But she had done it before, hadn’t she!

With Ann it had been easy, as she was out and proud, making the word  _ lesbian _ , something that so many saw as a joke, a punchline, an insult, into  _ art _ . She made it beautiful in Futaba’s eyes, her pride towards the word a fiery challenge against everyone and everything, making her way through darkness like fire itself, loving and being loved with such sincerity it made her tear up a bit. She was a romantic and a fighter, thriving despite the rumors that accumulated behind her back once people had seen her with Shiho for the first time. 

The world brightened up a little when Ann Takamaki was around. 

So, Futaba asked her to come over a few months before, and spilled the beans to her, expecting to be understood. And she had, wrapping her arms tightly against her frame, thanking her for telling her that she loved and supported her.

  
  


Then came Akira. Emboldened with Ann’s support, she spilled the beans while they were playing a new release of a fighting game on Leblanc’s attic. It came out simply, without much fanfare or preparations, but with a lot of fear for backlash. 

The answer she got wasn’t any of the endings she had expected, however, and it turned out she had unlocked a new route.

“See? Pans are very useful weapons, dude. You never see us coming.” She blurted out while choosing a literal pan as a weapon for her character. She tried to remain casual, but her eyes flickered over to Akira over and over, looking for his reaction.

He nodded solemnly, an amused smile on his face.

When he finished customizing his character on the screen, the character was wearing blue, purple and pink. “You’re pretty stealthy, yeah. We could form a good team together, we’re also pretty much ignored.”

_ Oh. _

“Solidarity.” She began the game, still a little in shock, pulling her lips into a relieved grin, tension washing away from her and turning into giddy excitement. 

“Solidarity.” He echoed, as he proceeded to get his ass whooped by her superior gaming skills.

  
  


Then, after a few more conversations with Akira, the standard  _ when, how _ and  _ do you have a crush on anyone so I can tease you about it like the little shit of a non related brother I am _ , came Yusuke.

He was the one to bring it up, actually, after she had been caught staring a little too long at Sumire’s beautiful hair. He tilted his head slightly, and with a serene smile, said the most  _ embarrassing bullshit _ she had heard in a long time once the group had disbanded and left them two to hang out a while further before going home. “It’s truly a shame I don’t have paper with me. That expression of longing, budding love hidden by hesitance, the respect towards one admires and desires, the fire of romantic passion underneath it all!” She turned back at him, gawking, and all the fucker did was blink in confusion. “Did I misinterpret the expression, Futaba? My apologies if I did, but it seemed like genuine romantic tension.”

She had underestimated his perception stat, clearly.

Feeling her whole body still burning from being caught, she shook her head. “No! You’re right, Inari holy shit why did you say it  _ like that _ ! I don’t- aren’t you a little weirded out or something?” She buried her face in her hands, letting out an embarrassed groan, but got silence in return. 

Huh?

As she peeled off her hands, she was greeted with a sadder expression. His eyebrows were furrowed together, and his eyes were full of concern, leaning closer to her. “Futaba, why do you feel the need to hide a part of yourself around me? Have I done anything that could give off the impression I would be hostile to you?”

She stared at him this time, a little confused. “Huh? Yusuke, I don’t- what?”

“If I have done anything that would put in doubt my pure support and desire for you to have a fulfilling life with complete rights and agency, alongside anyone you love, please let me know.” He sounded solemn, as if the mere idea of him being weirded out by her crush on Sumire was a personal offense.

“I. No! no, Inari, you didn’t- ugh,  _ how do I explain this _ -” 

“Take as much time as you need, we could also sit down if you need to.” She shook her head, flailing her hands and trying to steady herself. 

“No! Just. Okay, so I was going to come out to you tomorrow? And like, text you or something because I wanted to let you know, but the thing never came up y’know? And maaaaybe I was a little scared you’d be weirded out! But it’s great that you aren’t! It really is! It means. It means a lot. You never said anything but y’know how it is with judging and that shit, you never know until you outright tell them and this caught me really, really off guard!” She said as fast as she could, words stumbling out like a waterfall out of her mouth. “And Sumi, she’s really cute but I don’t know, I don’t know how I feel exactly but all I know is that she’s great and she could totally kick my ass and I’d thank her, man, that’s- that’s all I know.” She stared into his eyes, which had relaxed a little. “Thanks dude, for understanding.”

He shook his head, frown turning into a smile, as they both began walking once more. “You truly don’t have to thank me. You’re a dear friend to me, Futaba, despite our bickering and strained relationship at the beginning of knowing each other. My love to you, in the most platonic sense, is one free from judgement. I would never want you to feel anything from me but that. However you decide your feelings towards Yoshizawa-san are directed, you have a confidant in me.”

She felt as if she was going to tear up any second now. “Holy shit Inari, don’t say mushy stuff like that again, it’ll make me cry, and I’m  **not** crying in public today.” She snickered and he nodded, a playful smile grazing his own lips.

  
  


After three friends, there was the fourth.

Morgana hadn’t been there the day she had come out to Akira, he had been at Ann’s, trying on cat sweaters with her and Shiho, if the pictures said anything about it. 

So, she knew at some point she had to tell him. She waited till a day where he had gone to her place, laying on her bed, his belly exposed and looking up at the ceiling after having eaten a pretty big lunch with her. “Hey, Mona?”

“Yeah Futaba?”

“You.. uh.” How did she even break the news to a cat? “I. Do you know anything about sexualities?”

“Human sexualities?” He lifted his head a little, cocking a fluffy eyebrow at her. “Well, of course! I’m not dumb!” 

She laughed a bit. “I know! I know. But yeah. Thoughts about it?”

“I uh, well, Akira told me a few things I didn’t know before? I knew mine was heterosexual, but I had a vague idea about the others. So I guess I understand a lot more nowadays. Lady Ann too, she was very patient explaining it all! She’s so intelligent, I hope that Shiho girl is treating her well, or I swear I’ll claw her face off.” He huffed.

“You aren’t mad about Ann?”

“Well, I. I love lady Ann, but love is selfless! It’s not her responsibility how I feel! She’s my friend first.”

“Not even a tiny little bit mad?”

“Where are you going with this, Futaba?”

Huh. “Well, Akira told me a few things too.”

He blinked, then narrowed those electric blue eyes at her. “Look, Futaba, I like you, but if you say anything against Akira, I’d advise you to shut up. And no, I’m not mad at Lady Ann for something that’s innate in her. If you’re mad, keep it to yourself, and maybe examine your own feelings.”

That.. she hadn’t expected  **_that._ **

“What! No, no, Mona, dude, that’s not what I meant at all.”

“Then go on.” His voice relaxed slightly.

When she told him, he was surprisingly supportive, excitedly telling her that he was happy she trusted him enough to tell him that and to not worry, she was more than okay in his book. He even purred at her, apologizing for having snapped earlier. He asked, for her safety and peace of mind, who else knew, as Akira had told him that coming out could be very dangerous, and he wanted her to be safe.

  
  


So, she had so far done the whole coming out thing four times.

But it had all gone well.

  
  


Two people and their reactions terrified her. One was Sojiro, and she had absolutely no idea how to break the news to him, the thought of him becoming angry, or sad, or  _ disappointed _ felt absolutely horrible.

The other was Sumire.

  
  
  


By the end of Sunday, she had done so many mental gymnastics she could participate in the Olympics and win a gold medal for the overthinking category.

  
  


**23:50**

**[Alibaba] added [LesbiAnn], [Nasty crime boy], [Inari the furry] to the group chat “Send help”**

**[Nasty crime boy]:** Is this about Sumire?

**[Alibaba]:** yea lmao

**[Nasty crime boy] has changed the chat’s name to “Gay panic support group”**

**[Nasty crime boy]:** Now we’re talking. -w- What’s up? 

**[LesbiAnn]:** Hi everyone!!!! What’s this about gay panic???? Futaba did you text Sumire?????

**[Alibaba]:** got tired of having to talk to everyone individually

**[Alibaba]:** so i said fuck it, made group chat

**[Nasty crime boy]:** A wise choice.

**[Alibaba]: @LesbiAnn** nope not yet

**[Alibaba]:** turns out i kinda

**[Alibaba]:** forgot to tell sumi the whole i think women hot thing

**[Alibaba]:** and now im paniking lol

**[Nasty crime boy]:** Aight, Pani King. 

**[Alibaba]:** bitch i swear ill mute ya

**[Alibaba]:** anyways

**[Alibaba]:** gonna text her

**[Alibaba]:** and send the screenshots here

**[Alibaba]:** gonna tell her to hang out

**[Inari the furry]:** Hello everyone, I apologise for arriving so late, I had been struck with inspiration earlier and was now finalizing the sketch. 

**[Inari the furry]:** Futaba, I wish you the best in regards to telling Yoshizawa-san your feelings towards her.

**[Nasty crime boy]:** Sister dearest why must you hurt me like this. 

**[LesbiAnn]:** Who hurt whom?????

**[Inari the furry]:** May you have the strength to keep going despite any result.

**[Nasty crime boy]:** Futaba, she hurt me. Broke my heart.

**[Nasty crime boy]:** Lmao Yusuke don’t kill her vibe so early.

**[Nasty crime boy]:** But yeah, you’re gonna be fine. nwn 

**[Alibaba]:** ull survive the heartbreak

**[Nasty crime boy]:** Morgana wishes you good luck, btw. 

**[LesbiAnn]:** Oh, Futaba it’ll go fine!!!! I’m cheering you on!!!!

**[LesbiAnn]:** Imagine I have, like, pom poms!!! Go Futaba go!!!!

**[Alibaba]:** anns the only mf i respect here

**[Alibaba]:** @Mona thanks bud

**[Alibaba]: @Inari the furry** inari dont kill my groove also im tough as fuck

**[Inari the furry]:** I know you are, Futaba. 

  
  


**00:00**

**[Alibaba]:** hey sumi!

**[Fellow redhead]:** hi futaba-senpai!!!!

**[Alibaba]:** how are u whats up

**[Fellow redhead]:** i’m alright!! i just came home from practice!!

**[Fellow redhead] sent IMG4667.JPG**

  
  
  


Futaba almost screamed the moment she opened the picture Sumire had sent her. It was her, making a peace sign in front of the mirror, smiling. Her hair roots were damp and sticking against her shimmering face, her eyes were alert and excited, her cheeks a little flush from the exercise.

She would honestly have to look up if she had any life insurance that Sumire was the beneficiary of, because this woman was obviously trying to kill her. 

**[Fellow redhead]:** and you??? how are you! what are you doing???

**[Alibaba]:** i can see that lol you get to rest now tho right

**[Alibaba]:** im all good, chilling

**[Alibaba]:** i wanted to ask u something

**[Fellow redhead]:** haha, yeah!!! then i have to do other things but for now ill rest a little!!

**[Fellow redhead]:** go ahead!! what is it?

**[Alibaba]:** wanna hang out like after school or something this week

**[Fellow redhead]:** yes of course!!! i’d love to!!!!!

**[Fellow redhead]:** would wednesday be okay for you????

**[Fellow redhead]:** oh you could show me some of the anime you told me about!!!

**[Alibaba]:** sure dude wednesdays cool

**[Alibaba]:** and yeah lol that was the plan

**[Alibaba]:** ill see you wednesday then?

**[Fellow redhead]:** yes!!! ill wait for you at the school gates!!!!

  
  


To respond to her picture, Futaba raised her phone and took one of herself. When she looked at it, she honestly looked awkward, with her bad posture and too big smile, and her stupid bony fingers. But, taking a deep, steadying breath, she sent it anyway.

**[Alibaba]:** cool cool

**[Fellow redhead]:** oh senpai you look so cute!!! 

_ Oh? _

  
  
  


**[Fellow redhead]:** i love that shirt!!!

Oh.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


It was true that life could feel a little lighter when one had friends around. Akira found himself filling his afternoons texting not only his Tokyo friends, but a whole new group as well. It served to fill a little better that hole that had been left open after the Thieves disbanded. 

He didn’t want to admit it, but it had been a while since his last full length conversation with Haru, or Makoto. At least he knew about Haru through Ryuji, who was a little more interested in her life than usual lately. He found the combination of them both a little odd, but charming nonetheless. But as for Makoto? It had been a while. She seemed to be putting her studies first, and while that was very important and he wished her the best, it still stung a bit, being left behind.

The mask he had crafted for her felt abandoned. A part of himself huffed, making trapped circles inside his head. “ _ They’re forgetting you bit by bit. _ ” It said, tone bitingly harsh.

**15:38**

**[Smooth criminal]:** Hey Makoto!

**[Smooth criminal]:** What’s up? -w-

**[Narc redeemed]:** Hello Akira!

**[Smooth criminal]:** It’s been a while.

**[Narc redeemed]:** It has.

**[Narc redeemed]:** I’m so sorry I haven’t talked to you that much, and really I can’t stay today either, exams are taking most of my hours. But I really hope you’re doing alright.

**[Smooth criminal]:** Already? So early into the year? o_o

**[Narc redeemed]:** Yes. Again, I’m so sorry.

**[Smooth criminal]:** I’m alright, btw.

**[Narc redeemed]:** That’s wonderful, Akira. I’ll text you later, okay? Have a good afternoon.

**[Smooth criminal]:** Yeah, you too.

_ They’re forgetting you,  _ It whispered against his ear. 

He adjusted Goro’s glove tighter.

But before he could wallow in his despair of being forgotten, the pressure in his chest of having reached out only to crash against a wall, he got a new text from the new group chat he was in. 

Right, he was going to go with his new friends to eat that Friday. 

Disappointment turned into excitement quite easily, and his mood was lifted once more, even further when he arrived at his room and Morgana got out and slumped against him, complaining about how Makoto seriously could spare some minutes not frying her head with a book and talk to Akira instead. 

Right, he wasn’t alone.

He was fine! Everything was fine. And it wasn’t as if Makoto didn’t care, she was just busy.

It had been so much easier back in Tokyo, they could’ve met up and studied together in silence, but he wouldn’t be forgotten, he would have been there for her, he would’ve kept the remnants of something that had changed his life so deeply he wasn’t sure how to move on from it. If he could even move on from it.

The Metaverse was gone, so were his powers, but at least he wanted the friendships to stay, to hold on to something that had been so amazing, so unnatural he at times woke up thinking he had imagined it all until he heard Morgana’s soft little voice greeting him. He wanted things to stay as sweet as they had been before, dangerous, but with the security that he and his teammates would win despite it all. 

Now, all that was left were ashes, and the bonds that could possibly survive from them. Yes, they would always be tied together thanks to what only they had experienced, 

(Only they could know what a Persona was, and what that power entailed, as the only other Persona user in existence that wasn’t them was  _ dead _ , and what he felt from Yu couldn’t possibly be the same power as them, it had to be something else, it  _ had to be _ , this was what tied him and his group together, it was what had made him useful, what had made him special and who was he if he wasn’t special other than **just** _ shameful Kurusu- _ )

But it wasn’t the same.

It didn’t feel the same at all.

  
  


But he had chosen this, hadn’t he.

He had chosen change.

( _ He would be happy meeting other persona users. _ He told himself. He had done it over and over the past year, why did it feel so bitter now? He was better than a simple power born out of being manipulated by a god! He had to change, to go on.)

That didn’t stop it from hurting, though.

  
  
  


He wondered if Goro would’ve laughed on his face when he told him about those worries. If with an amused smirk and cold eyes, he would’ve told him that for being a symbol of rebellion and change, he sure complained about change a lot. He would’ve laughed even harder at the rest of his complaints, telling him that he sure was pathetic for even considering he and his teammates were unique in regards to their powers.

He wondered if that would’ve made him feel better.

If in all his leadership and so many relying on him, what he actually needed was others he could rely on. If he would actually find it freeing that there hadn’t been just two wildcards in the whole world, even if the Metaverse was now completely destroyed. ( _ wasn’t it? _ )

He wondered if the others also felt this alone.

He wondered if Makoto thought about him as often as he did about her.

As Morgana laid against his window to bask on the sun, he wondered if there were other creatures born from the velvet room that Igor (wherever he was) just hadn’t told them about. If Morgana would be happy meeting them.

If Akira himself would be happy meeting them. 

  
  


There was a knock against his door, and it startled him right out of his thought train.

Morgana quickly dove under his bed, startled, and Akira removed the gloves as fast as he could, trying to look as concentrated on taking things out of his bag as possible. “Come in!” He called out, a little confused as to why the hell his parents were knocking on his door instead of leaving him alone like usual. Said door pried open, and his mother walked in, with a cup of tea, and a bag of muffins from a local western style bakery.

Confusion must’ve been written all over his face, as she spoke to clear those doubts right up. “Before you left, you said the vanilla ones had been your favorite.” She put the bag down on his nightstand, right next to the tea, which he cocked his head towards. “You love tea.” She stated, not giving an ounce of doubt.

Did he like tea?

When had he said he even liked tea?

All he remembered was coffee, served by Sojiro’s stern, but gentle hand. Rich flavors and powerful caffeine, alongside the soft laughs of friends he wanted to keep forever despite life doing its worst to try to tear them apart, plump lips that let out lies and snarls calming down for a gentle sip.

Stronger flavors, richer undertones true to a year that had felt like another life, like a stain of excitement he would never be able to wipe out.

On his nightstand sat mild memories.

His mother gave him the first smile he had seen in a long time. “Your father and I love you, you know. We want the best for you, but you need to cooperate with us. Yes, life may seem easy and straightforward now, but these things get harder as you go on. If you make your life harder than it has to be, Akira, you’ll regret it later on. All we want, is for you to understand that.”

  
  


Oh, he completely understood.

“I’m going out with Narukami-san on friday.” He voiced out, eyes narrowing as he stood up straighter.

His mother said nothing back. She looked colder than before, lips turning into a grimace.

He hardened his own stare, confusion having turned into anger.

  
  
  
  


She left the room without saying anything else to him.

  
  
  
  


The muffins remained untouched, and the tea was poured down the drain.

* * *

  
  
  


He was drowning.

Water filled everything around him, impossible to break away from, swallowing any attempt to get out, reaching a surface that no matter how much he swam he didn’t seem to reach. 

The pure blue from the sky over it teasingly remained untouchable, and the corners of his vision seemed to darken further and further.

When he opened his eyes he was at the edge of a pool. When he closed them once more, he was back in the water.

When he looked around, trying not to blink straight back into the water, he found himself surrounded by the structure of an old motel. Some paint was peeling at the edges where the dirty air conditioners were stationed, wafting disgusting air even in unneeded spaces, like that room with the window punched broken, or the room he seemed to instinctively know hosted a freshly killed body.

“ **It sucks being alone, doesn’t it?** ” A familiar, yet uncanny voice said to his right, along with the noise of someone idly messing with the pool water. “I get it, you know. You’re this country bumpkin and then all of a sudden you have half of Tokyo eating out of your palm. I mean, who would want to feel useless after all of that?”

When he turned his head, he was staring at..

At himself.

A faithful copy, down to messing with the front locks of his hair. Down to having a cat in his bag. Down to how he wore his Shujin uniform.

But there was something horribly wrong with that copy of himself even in the soft twilight light.

The eyes were.. off. Yellow, bright and piercing against the overwhelming lilac.

“Wouldn’t you want to go back, Akira?” A horribly menacing Morgana added from a bag that was just a little too ragged. 

He tried to answer, but when he tried, he was drowning once more.

“Have all that power right back? Coursing through your veins.” He raised up from his spot by the pool. The motel looked a little bit darker. 

“To stay young, stay powerful!” He made a little twirl, giggling softly. “Killing everything that even dares to judge you.” His eyes trained right back into his own. 

“You had that chance twice! Who wouldn’t kill for that!” He snorted, smile growing malicious.

He couldn’t answer. His head moved on its own, giving hi- _ it _ a curt nod.

“But you threw it all aside for your own little justice. Now you’re crying! Would you look at that!” It laughed even harder. “ **Ungrateful brat.** ”

_ I did it for the others. They deserved a normal life.  _ He thought, and the creature seemed to hear him just fine.

“And yet they can’t spare a single phone call.” It shrugged, shaking its head slowly. “You’ve done so much for others, sacrificed yourself, got yourself at the risk of being murdered! And none of them gave a single shit.”

_ Fuck you. It was the only way, we had no other choice. _

“Oh, did you! And why didn’t someone else go? Why  **you** ? Why not Ryuji? Haru? Yusuke? Your dear plan maker Makoto!”

_ I wouldn’t have let them. _

It let out the loudest laugh so far. “Are you that desperate to be noticed, to be seen as unique, that you’d kill yourself for it?”

The grin turned unnatural. Water seemed to raise from the pool, taking more and more space.

“You’re not a beacon of goodness, Akira. Stop pretending to be so.”

He opened his mouth, despite the fear of drowning once more.

“ _ I don’t regret it. _ ” he whispered, voice feeling hoarse. He would like having his powers once more, but not at the cost of the only people who had noticed him and given him a family.

“Sure you don’t.”

The water kept rising.

“ _ I don’t! I love them! _ ”

There hadn’t been any hope of swimming back out, he suddenly realised, the water itself happened to be blue, and the illusion of pure blue had been just that.

“Then why are you so scared of others being like you?”

The water felt deafening.

“ _ I don’t want them to forget me. _ ” He relented, shame coiling in his stomach, voice weak despite his screams.

“And what if they do?” The creature got closer, as if the water didn’t matter to it, as if it felt nothing at all.

He couldn’t answer that. The mere thought of it was terrifying. 

His mouth tasted chlorinated water.

“One day, Akira, you’ll be dead and forgotten. You’ll be nothing but dust. The Phantom Thieves are already being forgotten.  **You** , are already being forgotten. Isn’t that great?”

He couldn’t breathe. The pool felt as if it had gotten deeper.

It spoke from above the pool, messing with it idly, using its hand.

“Wouldn’t it be great if your persona could save you now?” It mocked.

He thought of the moment he found out Goro was another Wildcard. When he felt that strange mixture of shock and excitement, not unlike the one he felt every time one of his friends awoke a persona. He thought of the will of rebellion he had lost. The many masks he wore over it, changing over and over to suit everyone and everything. The one he didn’t have to wear around the only other wildcard he knew.

The resentment when the only person he felt completely comfortable being who he was around was ripped away from him by the same bald fuck that had ruined his life.

The fear of everyone else leaving him behind.

The new friends he was starting to make.

The fear of being alone and being in company.

The possibility of a whole world he didn’t know about, a world he could belong to.

The possibility of truly being alone in what had happened to him and his friends.

  
  
  


As the world went dark, he raised a hand from inside the water, flipping the shadow off. 

Goro hadn’t died for him to go back on his promise.

  
  


* * *

When Akira tried to recall what he had dreamed about, he came out empty handed, only with the vague sensation of drowning still lingering on the back of his mind.

**07:32**

**[Cat lover 3000]:** Good morning Akira-kun! :-)

**[Cat lover 3000]:** I saw this and thought you might wanna see something cute.

**[Cat lover 3000] sent IMG5007.JPG**

It was a picture of the fat orange cat that lived by the river, its stomach exposed and sticking out its tongue a little. Akira’s chest swelled with an emotion he couldn’t seem to be able to describe, but the closest he could come up with was that he really hoped his friendship with Yu lasted. He hoped he could tell him about personas, and despite his conflict, he hoped Yu would know what he was talking about.

**[Smooth criminal]:** Hi Yu-san! nwn

**[Smooth criminal]:** I love it! He’s adorable.

**[Smooth criminal]:** Thanks. I needed that, haha.

**[Cat lover 3000]:** Have a good day at school!

  
  


As he was about to put his phone away to walk to school, he got another message. 

**07:33**

**[Narc redeemed]:** Akira, would you be free on wednesday? I managed to get a little spot in between study sessions to do something I wanted, and I would really love to have a video call with you. I miss you.

**[Smooth criminal]:** Hey Makoto! Sure! That’d be great. nwn

  
  


He moved with a bigger pep on his step than before. Sure, things were changing. Sure, it was terrifying. But not every change in the world had to be bad, not every new circumstance had to be dangerous. 

Despite everything, he would persevere.

Through change, through everything, he was determined to go on. 

And so what if Goro and himself weren’t unique?

He would be trading that for more people he could belong with. Grabbing the muffin bag from the night before, he tossed it on the table, uneaten, which his mother saw.

“I didn’t realise you were so determined to end up alone.” She answered his gesture with a grimace, a cup of tea on her hands.

He didn’t bother giving her an answer before closing the door, a fire he hadn’t felt in a while guiding him on.

  
  
  
  


* * *

“So, all he left was this note.” He said, not even bothering to look at the old hag as he reread the barely legible scribbles on the paper. 

“ _ Thank you for taking care of my mother before me. _ ” He repeated in a mockingly high voice, giving it a stereotypical falsetto just to drive the point. He cocked an eyebrow at her, face morphing back into seriousness. “His mother, huh. Nakamura-san, what could you tell me of Akechi-kun’s mother?” His tone was sickeningly sweet, despite the cold metal he held against her temple and forced her to remain standing up.

“S-she was a resident. Admitted for battery, but that was. That had been years before Akechi-kun even rose to fame, she was nothing but a sweetheart, nothing suspicious about her! She died years ago, while her son was still a child!” He pressed the gun harder against her skull. “Huh. Well, and how about friends? Did he talk about any friends?” He murmured, leaning closer.

She was about to shakingly answer, when his phone rang. Angrily he fished it out, the gun  _ still _ against her skin. She was shaking, yes, but she wasn’t crying or even giving away too much that she was terrified, so. Kudos to the hag, he guessed, having to keep an eye on her as he spoke.

“What do you want?” He barked into the phone to whoever had dared to bother him.

“ _ We found a lead on the friend. _ ” 

Oh.

He laughed, giving her a teasing grin and pulling the gun away from her, using his foot to shove her back into her chair roughly, her face finally breaking composure and turning into one of shock, most likely trying to understand what had just happened. 

“Well! Isn’t it my lucky day! It was a pleasure chatting with you once more, Nakamura-san, but I’m afraid I must get going.” He gave her a little bow, before leaving, feeling over the moon at the prospect of not being murdered by Sunday. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> strap yourselves up for the next one, as we're gonna reach the peak of this rollercoaster on chapter 11!  
> Next up, more Futaba, more Akira, a lot more Investigation team, in a long, and i mean long! chapter.  
> As always, feedback is appreciated!!!  
> thank you so much for following sunlight!!!!


	11. chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Futaba and Sumire go out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally chapter 11 was going to be a lot, and I mean a lot, longer. When I finished writing it, it became too much information all together.   
> So, I've decided to split it for reading convenience, and the next update will just come a little bit sooner.  
> When writing this, I thought of a three course meal.  
> Let's think of this chapter as a sort of appetizer, we could say!  
> A lot happens, and at the same time very little.  
> Something sweet and light, with a few injections of bitterness.
> 
> As always, thank you very, very much for reading.

Wednesday peeked its head without much fanfare. The Sun got up, people got out of their beds, bussinesses opened, schools waited for children to walk in, and Futaba had her first mental breakdown of the day. Society could be so beautiful.

She walked stiffly out of the house, one leg after the other without much bending action coming from her knees. The skirt felt itchier than usual, her skin felt tighter, she could literally feel the hair on her head. 

Despite people from the neighboring houses not even glancing at her, she couldn't shake the feeling of being judged every step she took.

She had made the foolish mistake of every fool in love ever: invite said object of her affections to go out after school. 

Just the two of them.

_ Together. _

Sharing the same space. Not even with her parents behind, or the Phantom Thieves, or a rare instance where she had stayed behind to wait for her parents. No.

This was special, in the sense that Futaba had gathered enough courage to straight up tell her to hang out. No show excuses, not anything. Just two girls hanging out.

Two gal pals.

Sorority sisters.

An example of a lack of romantic feelings.

An event that would pass the Bechdel test. 

Platonic friends,  _ lgbt community whomst? _

  
  
  
  


She almost tripped.

Oh God she was going to come out to Sumire today.

Oh God, why did she think this was a good idea.

Why did she let Ann convince her it was a good idea when she chickened out on Monday.

Either she was going to kiss her friendship with Sumire goodbye, or she’d be accepted, and even if she was accepted, she wasn’t sure how she would react at the second part, which would have to come out later ( _ hah _ ), because now that the moment had come upon her, she realized she really,  _ really _ , couldn’t do both at the same time. 

She felt she was going to fall over when she slipped on a stool at Leblanc for her coffee fix before she would have to face a nerve-wracking day. Sojiro stared at her with a mixture of amusement and concern, making her a cup with extra caffeine and gently settling it in front of her, alongside a plate of freshly made curry. “Tough exam today?” His tone was gentle, affectionate, and to her list of worries it was added that maybe, just maybe, he’d lose that tone once she came out to him. 

Great! Another thing to worry about! 

The smell of a well made meal invaded the space around her, the warmth reaching her face when she got a bit closer to it.

Maybe she would get kicked out and never experience this again.

Maybe she’d stay, but the curry would be cold, and the coffee the same as water.

Maybe there would be no meal and a cold scowl directed at her.

  
  


But for now, she still had it.

  
  
  


For a moment, there was only coffee and curry.

  
  


She took a deep breath, deeper than she needed to, but it was enough to center her and keep her on Earth, placing the cup on her lips.

The ceramic was warm, the coffee delicious, with enough cream and sugar to subdue the bitterness lying underneath.

  
  


It reminded her of Sumire's facade dropping a little when she thought nobody could see her.

  
  


It reminded her of a second chance to see her mother, and the cups they clank together in a toast for no reason in particular.

  
  


It reminded her of Akira, smiling softly at her as she clung to him, an anchor in a world that filled her with absolute anxiety.

  
  


A cup that Akechi never finished, because he was too busy flirting with Akira, and hadn't even noticed.

  
  


Yusuke's explanations about the inherent artistry in painting using coffee, when she wondered if he'd ever gather as much passion on food as the one he had on painting, even with edible items. 

A reality that had unquestionably accepted her, and how tempting it had been to stay in that bubble, with her mother and a human Morgana, where she could legally marry Sumire and nobody would bat an eye, where Akira would be safe from Inaba, Yusuke could have a doting father figure and she didn't have anxiety around crowds, where she could look at fire without thinking about sticking her hand in. 

  
  
  


A reality she had chosen to shatter in favor of the truth, when she joined Akira.

  
  


She looked up from her trance and found herself with Sojiro’s concerned stare. “Is there something wrong, Futaba?”

She shook her head, shrugging her shoulders for emphasis. “Nerves.” Oh, if he only knew just how deep the nerves went, as she shoved bite after bite of the curry inside her mouth.

As always, it was good.

“Do you want me to take you to school, then? So you don’t get even worse taking the train.”

“I can do it! don’t worry.” She tried to look more upbeat and determined instead of revealing the absolute trainwreck inside her head, and it seemed to have worked well enough, as all Sojiro did was raise an eyebrow at her and nod, the universal signal of  _ I don’t believe you but go off I guess.  _ “You should get going, then, if you want to make it on time. And if there’s anything wrong, c-” “Call you, I knooooow, Sojiro.” That elicited a little chuckle from him, bringing a hand to slightly ruffle her orange hair. 

“Have a good day, kid.”

  
  


“You too, dad.”

She rolled her shoulders, grabbed her bag, took another breath, and with as much courage as she could muster, got out the door.

* * *

  
  


As Wednesday welcomed him, Akira tried to remember just what the hell he had been dreaming about just a few minutes before. All he could muster up was the color blue, but it was the wrong shade than the one he had gotten used to the year before. This one felt somehow sickly, as if there was something horribly wrong with it, but he had yet to pinpoint exactly  _ what _ . Morgana raised his little head from his chest, cocking his head in confusion.

“It’s morning already?” He groaned, already proceeding to stretch his body as well as he could for a whole day of being trapped in a school bag. Trying not to bother his cat yoga routine, Akira stretched to find his phone, eyes taking a moment to adjust to the harsh light suddenly thrown on them, and a little bit longer to register the information shown by the glaringly white box of doom. 

**06:50**

**\--Gay panic support group--**

**(Alibaba; LesbiAnn; Nasty crime boy; Inari the furry)**

**[Alibaba]:** im doing it today

**[Alibaba]:** may be extremely tempted to puke my guts out 

**[Alibaba]:** wish me luck u beautiful bastards

  
  


When he walked into the kitchen to get himself and Morgana something to eat, he was welcomed by the unwelcome sight of seeing both of his parents still around, already in the beginning of a shushed argument over Akira’s father having misplaced something (Akira didn’t catch  _ what  _ exactly), which had led to his mother freaking out, which had then led to his father calling her a  _ harpy _ , which had led to the current scene of her spitting out venom towards him without raising her voice even a single octave.

The kitchen was so close, yet so far, as it was currently being used as the backdrop of said argument. Sure, he could wait, but knowing them they could either keep going for hours, or quickly shut up and silently send death glares to each other, and Akira really needed to get his ass to school. 

So, he grabbed his things, grabbed Morgana, who in confusion asked where breakfast was but let himself be moved anyways, and bolted outside as quietly as he could. 

The green fields felt like a small box.

The ground felt barely there.

The glares were background noise. 

He was hungry.

Morgana was obviously hungry as well, but for once he didn’t complain, most likely having heard what had been going on in his house.

He walked with purpose despite it all, only pausing to send a text wishing Futaba good luck with her date and to give Morgana a subtle pet (something that reminded him that at least  _ some _ people felt anything positive towards him), and went straight to his classroom, where, unsurprisingly, he was met with even more hostility.

He was still hungry.

At this point he wouldn't be surprised if his hair grew a white streak. 

  
  


His teacher said aloud that he was very surprised, as he hadn’t expected  _ Kurusu  _ to do so well in the first graded assingments of the year. A few students mumbled amongst themselves if he had cheated, or if he had just happened to have good luck.

He was asked more questions in that class than in the almost three months before together, as quickly as possible, as if they were trying to make him fail. Without once breaking his blank face, he answered them all correctly.

Instead of being anywhere near impressed, the glares hardened.

  
  
  


Okay, at this rate, probably a whole head of white hair.

  
  
  
  


( _ He wondered if Goro would've liked it, in the same way he liked Akira's anger, or the way his beautiful red eyes stared a little too hard into his and simply said "You have specks of red. I hadn't noticed them before."  _

  
  


_ "Do you like them?"  _

  
  


_ "They give you a different flare." _ )

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When lunch came around, he went to the spot Morgana and him had claimed for themselves, and he almost collapsed. Morgana poked his head out, staring at him with as much concern as he could possibly express. “Akira?” He mumbled.

Akira had closed his eyes, head towards the sky. Silently, he cursed at himself for not making a bento the night before, when another fight had been going on but at least it had been more manageable, instead having chosen to throw himself on his bed and almost faint from the mental exhaustion.

“I’m okay, Morgana.”

“Are you sure? You wanna take a nap? I could keep watch.”

“Aren’t you mad at me for not feeding you?”

“I can wait a couple of hours, I’m not weak! And. I don’t want you buying stuff here, Akira.”

He immediately thought of the bento full of earthworms.

  
  


“Fair enough. We can swing by Junes later and get ourselves something good to eat, sounds good?”

Morgana’s face was soft, understanding. “Yeah. But seriously, Akira, don’t you wanna take a nap? You look really, really tired.”

“Nah, I’ll. I’ll see if Makoto can talk now.”

  
  


She could. It was a relief for Akira’s soul at that moment, seeing her familiar face excitedly talking about her classes, the new study group she was in, the library supplies she had bought for that exact purpose. He couldn’t help the smile that came on his face the moment she held up a sheet of stickers, saying that she had been a little embarrassed to get them and display them in a room full of adults early on, but the little pandas yelling about due dates, studying hard and how tired they were from all the studying made it all a little more bearable. It was a little funny, with her spiked leather jacket, talking about cute cartoon stickers with so much excitement. His smile grew a little further, affection bubbling up in his chest. 

The subject, after a while, turned to romantic relationships as a part of the whole  _ Makoto and Akira finally get a chance to catch up after so long _ package.

“You know, back at school everyone asked if I had a boyfriend. It looks like I got left alone, but now I’m the one a little impatient for a partner! I haven’t changed a bit, have I?” She let out a little laugh, the little natural snorts in it making Akira laugh as well. “They’re missing out! I’m sure you’ll find someone, Makoto.”

“My sister keeps insisting that I have better things to do than thinking about that, and it’s true! But law can get extremely boring sometimes, and well, the mind wanders.”

“Man, I can’t believe that with all your talk about being a cop last year, you’re turning into something even worse, a lawyer!”

“Hey now, mister, who got you out of last year’s mess, huh?” She teased, her own eyes betraying through the screen the overbearing love she had for him.

“Oh, how’s Sae by the way? Tell her I said hello!”

In those moments, he felt as if there were no glares, no parents, no anger bubbling down his skin. Just him, one of his friends, and the bond of mutual affection they shared. It was as if Akira had stumbled upon fresh water after a long walk through the desert, even tearing up a little at one point, which Makoto quickly noticed and asked if she had said anything to upset him. “No! no. I hadn’t seen your face in a while, that’s all.”

His stomach sent a pang of hunger up his system.

“Akira.. that’s flattering, really, but. Are you sure you’re okay?”

He really wanted to get himself something filling at that moment.

Morgana, who had been keeping watch just in case (the thought of someone ruining Akira’s moment made his blood boil), turned to look at him once more with concern.

“I.” He could choose to be honest and maybe cry a little, or he could lie and keep the charade of everything being alright.

Morgana kept looking at him.

Makoto waited patiently for him to speak up.

  
  


He could lie.

It would be for her benefit too, she wouldn’t need to worry.

“I-”

Anger subtly coursed through his veins as he thought of his parents, of the way that in their little war, they had deprived not only him, but one of his most important friends, of breakfast.

He could say that.

He could talk about his frustration.

About his anger.

About his hope entering a crisis.

Morgana perked up, as if trying to urge him to tell the truth.

_ She’s already so stressed. _

_ You’d be selfish if you told her. _

_ You’d worry her unnecessarily. _

  
  
  
  
  


“I’m okay, Mako. Seriously! A little stressed, that’s all.”

Morgana’s face fell in absolute disappointment.

“Well, make sure to rest, Akira!” She smiled at him, but the slight narrowing of her eyes betrayed she didn’t fully believe him.

“I will.” He muttered, as he thought of what they could possibly eat later.

Students began moving back to their classrooms, and Akira had to say goodbye to Makoto and his little moment of peace, before diving back into the sea of tension that kept enveloping him. 

Morgana didn’t say anything to him, but he kept glancing worriedly at him before he had to get inside the bag. He shrugged, taking the bag and going back to class.

Shameful Kurusu couldn’t afford to be late, after all.

* * *

  
  
  


She could barely move at lunch. 

She kept fiddling with her phone, trying to focus on anything but the suffocating movement from students, the threads from the fabric on her legs that kept making her want to scratch herself in the most undignified manner, the way others looked at her curiously when passing by.

She opened Instagram, one of the leaky apps of doom, and immediately saw Sumire’s insta story, right there, waiting.

She closed Instagram.

She opened the camera to check if she was still looking moderately human. Ah yes, unnatractive as always. Wonderful.

She opened one of her games.

She closed the game after losing on the first level.

She tapped her pencil against her desk over and over as rapidly as she could.

  
  


Yet her thoughts kept going back to what she was determined to do later that day.

_ Okay, Alibaba, master hacker, persona fighter, noob destroyer. _

_ (Oh God, even her -thoughts- were awkward!) _

  
  


She could do this.

She could do this!

An imaginary Sumire had popped up in her brain, who kept rejecting her in multiple ways as the lunch minutes continued ticking, and the classroom emptied so students could get themselves something to eat, or just walk around for a bit, as the day was surprisingly sunny, and the sky too blue.

_ Keep mocking me, photoshop worthy sky. _

Couldn’t it have been gloomier? Darker? So at least the weather could cry with her! But no, it was an absolutely wonderful day, because Futaba couldn’t have nice things.

_ “Uh.. Well, I’m glad you decided to tell me that. Just don’t get a crush on me, please!”  _ Imaginary Sumire said.

_ “That’s unnatural.”  _ Her face would twist into a malformed grimace, and she would look for a way out of ever talking to her again.

_ “You’re so funny, Futaba-senpai!”  _ She would deny, and no matter how many times Futaba told her it would fall on purposefully deaf ears. 

Not in a single moment she thought of a possibly positive outcome, instead more and more bad endings kept popping up, one more creative than the others, even after coming out and into the confession. One even had Sumire liking girls, but just thinking Futaba was ugly, which she wasn’t sure if that would feel even worse, or not. In any case, all her rejections, she would accept them and not insist, maybe simply stalk her for a little bit in social media before her crush naturally washed away with time. Or maybe cry her heart out on her bedroom floor. Whichever came more naturally.

Oh God, she couldn’t do this.

When she looked up once more at the empty classroom, she saw it wasn’t that empty anymore. 

Earring man, the teacher, was settling his things at his desk, humming a song to himself. He rolled up the sleeves to his dark purple cardigan (part of the seemingly endless catalogue of different shades of purple clothing he owned, apparently, as he had yet to repeat a single shade in all the times she had seen him, but there had to be a limit, this man’s clothing selection couldn’t have so many purple tops, could it?), and took out a few boxes of chalk. He looked up from what he was doing to glance at Futaba, offering her a friendly smile, which she awkwardly returned. “Hey! Why aren’t you outside? It’s a great day.” He questioned, and it didn’t seem to be out of anything but curiosity. 

She.. wasn’t exactly sure how to handle complete strangers yet. Without vocalizing anything in fear she’d say something stupid as if she fucked up her relationship with this teacher it would follow her week after week, she shrugged her shoulders, and waited for him to keep asking like most adults unaware of her situation.

However, he didn’t pressure her further, to her surprise.

Instead, he simply smiled at her and kept to his own, letting her talk only if she wanted to.

It.. made her feel a little better, that show of respect.

She went back to her phone, anchoring herself, but let herself voice a single thought.

“I’m nervous.”

“Fight with one of your friends?”

She shook her head. “Yet.”

A ray of sunlight filtered through the window, particles of dust shining when it hit them. 

She looked back towards him. He was looking back at her with a soothing smile.

“Hey, I’m sure it’ll all go well.”

She shrugged. “Hope so.” Her hands were shaking a little as she held the phone, and other students began walking in.

“Good luck, by the way.” He offered one last smile before turning to the others. “Good morning, everyone!”

  
  


* * *

  
  


By the time school ended, and everyone had managed to make fun of him as much as they could get away with, which was a lot, Akira felt irritated. His steps felt heavy, the bag even worse, and the glare in his features didn’t go unnoticed by the others, who sidestepped the moment he passed by them, many staring aggressively at him, but others looking genuinely intimidated. 

He went through them all, not wasting a second, the glare becoming a deadly one the closer he got to the gates.

He was so fucking hungry, but he would’ve stand it, if it wasn’t for the fact that Morgana hadn’t eaten either, and that felt like an absolute crime. The more aggressively he walked, the more others simply moved as far as possible, as it wasn’t really fun to be in  _ assault charges Kurusu _ ’s way when he was actually angry. 

Getting out of school premises didn’t help his bad mood, going through the streets with a face that would’ve made an enraged status Joker tell him to calm down a notch.

But he couldn’t help it.

It was unfair.

Everything was unfair.

Blood boiled under his skin, made his neck’s nerves twitch slightly. Sure, he could stand hunger.

But how  _ dare  _ they do this to Morgana. 

Make him be witness to all of this.

Have to suffer this.

He even asked him if he wanted to leave for Tokyo and have Futaba pick him up, so he could be away from this hellhole, but he answered that he wouldn’t move even an inch away from Akira’s side, and sure, it felt wonderful to hear that, but at the same time it felt horrible that thanks to sticking with him, he was now hungry.

Akira preferred being completely alone to ever letting him be hungry again.

He made a beeline straight to Junes.

_ How dare they. _

He grabbed sushi, as much as he knew Morgana could eat.

_ How fucking dare they. _

He also grabbed a bunch of candy, because if the town was swallowing him whole, he could at least let himself eat as much junk as he wanted to.

The cashier looked a little nervous as he ringed Akira’s purchase up, but he didn’t do anything to remedy that, instead grabbing his things, and fucking off as fast as he could, making yet another beeline for a secluded spot Morgana could finally eat at. 

“Akira?” Morgana mumbled from his bag, his face a mixture of confusion and worry at the sheer fire moving his friend.

“We’ll get there, and you’ll have lunch like you deserve to.” He curtly answered.

“Akira, it’s fine, it wasn’t your fault, I heard what was going-”

“You don’t deserve to be punished because of my bullshit.”

Morgana let out a small sigh. “We’ll talk better when we get there.”

  
  
  
  


And among mouthfuls of sushi, he kept his promise of talking. Relief had washed over the both of them the moment food was put into their mouths, making Akira relax against the grass, most of the current anger leaving his body, leaving him with the permanent amount under his skin that had flared up since he realised he had to leave Tokyo, living alongside his overwhelming sadness. 

It was a nice day, despite the earlier mess.

“Look, Akira.”

“Hm?”

“Stop blaming yourself for stuff that isn’t even your fault.”

“I should’ve made the bento the night before, Mona.”

“They were fighting the night before!”

“I should’ve sucked it up and made it anyways!”

“Don’t say shit like that, Akira. I don’t want you suffering because of me.”

“You can’t feed yourself!”

“But I can wait!”

“And what?” He raised his head from the grass and stared at Morgana, distress painted clear on his features. “I make you suffer the entire day till we finally get a moment to breathe? I keep you in a place where you can’t even  _ talk freely _ ?”

“YES!” He got closer to Akira, whole body giving his own tension away. “You’re here, and you’re suffering, and I refuse to let my best friend go through this alone.”

The conviction felt.. 

Akira threw his head back in the grass and closed his eyes.

“It’s only for a few more months.”

“And then we’ll be back in Tokyo, Akira.”

“Just.. just a few more months.”

“Yeah! And I’ll stay here, whether you want me or not.”

He let out an airy chuckle, hearing the water a couple of feet away from them, the humidity of the green grass under his body. 

“Of course I want you here, Mona. You’re- you’re keeping me sane.”

“Glad I haven’t been replaced by Yu yet.” He teased, rolling to be on his back, mimicking Akira’s own pose. 

“That’s impossible, dude! You’re irreplaceable. The literal manifestation of hope.”

Morgana remained silent for a few moments.

A couple of birds flew past, the breeze picked up, and the sun warmed their bodies.

“Then believe me, Akira.”

Morgana closed his eyes.

“Believe me when I say we’ll be alright. We’ll be back soon, with your real family, and you’ll be a legal adult, and I’ll be able to walk freely around, and you’ll have the Thieves, and your new friends, and you’ll be free from these people, and you’ll still have me.”

It felt a little weird to breathe.

“I- I really want to.”

“Then do so.”

When Morgana opened his eyes, he noticed the few clouds that had been around in the sky had dissipated, the full magnitude of the Sun over them.

“Hey, Mona?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, man.”

He turned towards Akira, pure affection blossoming in his chest.

“I love you too.”

* * *

  
  
  


Was her hair okay? Were her glasses clean? Could she manage to sneak around and put at least shorts under the incredibly itchy skirt of doom? Had she sent Sojiro a text saying she was going to hang out with Sumire? That last one was a last minute affirmative, but the rest she wasn’t so sure. 

She walked to the gates like a prisoner walking to her doom.

And God, wasn’t doom looking gorgeous today.

She had her hair down instead of in a ponytail, lustrous red hair cascading down her shoulders, a black hairband with a small ribbon keeping it out of her face. Said face turned to look at her, lighting up when she spotted Futaba and raising an arm with the biggest, sunniest grin, illuminating her features.

For a split moment there were only the two of them, and the path that connected them. 

She excitedly waved Futaba over, and she tried not to stumble as she responded to the call like a moth drawn to a flame. 

“Senpai!” 

_ Great, she was going to die today out of sheer yearning. _

“Hey, Sum-” She was about to awkwardly greet her a few feet away, but instead she found herself surrounded by a powerful vanilla scent and a warm pressure against her body where Sumire had closed the path by crushing her into a hug. Her arms remained limp, mortified out of pure nerves of having her so  _ close _ , and when she tried to react, Sumire had already pulled away.

“Shall we get going?”

She stared at Sumire a few moments, blinking blankly.

_ Futaba.exe has stopped working, Windows is trying to diagnose the problem. _

_ … _

_ … _

_ Error 300: Ha, gay. Please restart. _

“Senpai?”

“UH!” She gathered herself as quickly as she could, trying to take away the heat on her cheeks. “Yes, let’s go. Yes.”

Sumire tried to fight a smile, but couldn’t help it, putting her hand over her mouth instead. “So, where are we going?”

Right, where were they going? Futaba shook her head. “Wanna.. wanna go get something to eat and g-go walk around afterwards?”

“Sure!” As she said this, Sumire was already grabbing her arm and dragging her away from school grounds. 

_ Okay, Futaba. _

_ Find your center. _

_ Deep breaths. _

_ Don’t fuck this up. _

_ This could be the last time you see her. _

The crowds of people that surrounded them as they walked through the streets of Tokyo made her even more nervous, but she tried to keep herself balanced, concentrating in Sumire’s voice as she told her about her school day.

“And I told Toudou-sensei I wanted to do the essay on gymnastics, right? He told me to not make it too technical-” 

“Wait, Toudou-sensei? Earring man?” 

“Pfft- Yeah! I’m not sure why, but I feel like he’s an old friend? Which must sound really, really weird, because I never met him before this year? But I swear it feels like that! Or maybe like an uncle I never knew I had.”

_ Huh. _

It was the only time the man came up, but she filed Sumire’s words in the back of her head, to examine later.

  
  


Soon, they found themselves sitting at a diner Akira and her had been at the year before. 

It made her feel safer, knowing she was somewhere she already knew the layout of, so she could easily navigate it, and it’d help her concentrate further on Sumire. However, when she saw the girl also acting like she knew the place, she wasn’t so sure about having chosen it.

She just hoped Sumire wasn’t offended by the choice, but so far her sunny grin hadn’t faltered, so that had to be a good sign!

Right?

“They have unlimited fountain drinks.” She whispered conspiratorially while leaning towards her once they had sat down in a corner where they could talk. Sumire nodded solemnly, before letting out a little giggle, and leaning closer to her as well, to say something back. “I see. So the plan is to get as many drinks as possible then.”

She was so close Futaba could count her beautiful lashes, those eyes never leaving hers, a playful glint on them.

“You’re catching on pretty fast!” She exclaimed, managing to not stutter.

She shrugged, a charming little grin on her cute little face. “It was the best possible course of action, Senpai. A little warning, though! I eat a lot. So don’t be scared!”

She was already thinking of yelling at Sojiro to teach her how to cook something good.

“No judgement here.” She leaned back when it was time to order, and failed not to grin at the comical way her simple order got dwarfed by Sumire’s long, over complicated one. “Hey, you said you wouldn’t be scared!” 

“I’m not! It was just funny to hear our orders right next to each other! I am but a mere low level player, while you need all the stat boosts you can get. I think if I go for a walk that’s more than the usual exercise I do. I look at you and your pretty self doing all those wooshy tricks and I’m like ‘whoa!’ you know?” 

She looked away, her face slowly tinting red. 

Had- 

had Futaba embarrassed her somehow? “Uh, Sumi?-”

“YOU COULD COME TO MY PRACTICE SOMETIME.” She was staring at the ceiling as she uttered that loud sentence, her face more than just a little red.

Futaba simply blinked at her, not sure if she had flustered her, or embarrassed her, or  _ what _ exactly.

“I mean.” She grinned sheepishly at Futaba, eyes glancing aside. “You could come to my practice? So you could see how my routine is made? If you want? Like. You told me t-the other day you liked my performance so-so I thought I’d offer? But it’s okay if you don’t want to come! I-It’s all good!”

She tried to sound as casual as possible, because the sight of her crush red on the face while inviting her to do something could  _ easily  _ be interpreted as adorably awkward flirting, and Futaba was 99% sure that wasn’t what Sumire meant it to be interpreted as. The plates were served in front of them as they talked, and Futaba paused to thank the waitress before replying to Sumire.

“What? Sumi- of course I’ll go!”

“And- Kitagawa-senpai can also come if he wants to!”

_ Oh shit, already?! It’s so early! _

But the gods of teen romance comedies didn’t wait. She had an opening to say something about the Inari situation, and she would have to do it  _ fast. _

_ Or she’d be a coward and let it slide, and for all she knew it’d be the first and last time they mentioned Inari the whole day. _

“Futaba-senpai?”

She looked at her own short nails. At the following moment, at the possibility of being left alone in the diner.

Did she have enough money to cover Sumire’s meal if she was too disgusted and had to flee?

Did she have enough for the early transport back home?

She really didn’t want to take from Akira’s account.

“Senpai? Are you okay?”

“I.”

Did she have enough tissues to cry her way through the week?

Was Ann going to be there that night to console her when she cried through the phone?

Was Sojiro going to suspect something was wrong?

“Uh, Sumire-chan.”

At the honorific, Sumire raised an eyebrow, stopping the bite she had taken while worriedly waiting for Futaba to answer her before.

“Yes, Senpai?”

“I. Uh,”

She looked up and into her confused and worried face, and while trying not to shake, she gave the snowball the final little push to start going down the hill.

“Yusuke isn’t my boyfriend.”

  
  
  
  
  


There was silence for a few moments.

  
  


Sumire’s face was blank.

  
  


Other people in the diner kept on talking, with their jokes and loud noises.

  
  


She blinked once, and Futaba mimicked her.

  
  


_ Oh God, Sumire for the love of God say something PLEASE- _

“Huh? But you- Senpai, you like Kitagawa-senpai, right?” Her tone was just as blank.

_ Ew. _

“Ew. He’s like, my brother, dude.”

For a few moments even more silence enveloped both girls, and it made Futaba want to crawl under the booth and die right then and there.

However, the sight that welcomed her the moment her eyes regained the strength to look upfront at Sumire, she-

_ Oh God, she likes Yusuke. _

It was as if she had just told Sumire the greatest news of her entire month. Her shoulders relaxed, a bright smile settled on her features, her posture got better. Suddenly a huge weight had been lifted off of her shoulders.

She irradiated light, everywhere, quickly, consuming everything in this ball of hardly contained excitement at the resolution of, obviously, her mental love triangle with her now being free to pursue Yusuke’s pure innocent love.

She was sure she was now going to ask the following questions, which Futaba had already prepared a mental sheet for:

  * _Is Yusuke single? Yes, he is._



  * _Is he interested in dating right now? No he isn’t, and doesn’t plan to be anytime soon._



  * _Does he have a type of girl? Whichever has better proportions for art purposes._



However, it seemed the day was going to be chock full of surprises, because as she was chewing on a piece of potato, she was thrown a curve ball she hadn’t seen coming at all, and she almost choked to death the second said sentence was finished.

“Well, Futaba-senpai, in that case you can come see me alone!” Sumire had said, and it felt like Futaba had been hit by a truck right then and there.

“I-” She had to keep coughing a while more, Sumire knitting her brows in worry despite the seemingly uncontrollable smile her lips had set on. “Are you okay, Senpai?”

“I- Yes- Gah-”

She had to take a drink of water, or rather the whole glass while staring at the ceiling, to actually reply like a human being. “I. I’ll go see you alone then.”

“Great! And we could get ice cream after?” Sumire’s eyes had narrowed a little bit, her smile growing even brighter.

“Yeah! Yeah dude. Y-yeah.” Her body felt hot all over, from the sheer embarrassment and surprise of it all. Well, since she was already making a mess of everything, she might as well finish it. “I, uh, about that. Relationships and stuff.”

She was throwing herself off a building without even checking where she would land. 

Going for it, uncertain, but the shame propelled her to talk, and if she spat it out all together there wouldn’t be any more need to feel this same way twice. 

She had imagined this at the end of their hangout, told slowly and with patience, after having spent a whole last day together, the moonlight reflecting off of her beautiful red hair as she left Futaba to cry alone till the sun came back up.

Right now, it felt..

_ uncomfortable. _

_ Slightly disgusting. _

Shameful, in the way it would break an entire friendship and break her heart for years to come. In the way she would try getting closer but a barrier in her mind would keep telling her, forever, just how wrong it was.

Her hands were sweaty. Her chest was heavy.

This felt so wrong.

Sumire stared at her, waiting for her to continue. 

“You know, about Yusuke and all, uh. Thoughts on lgbt people?”

Oh God, even her phrasing felt wrong, but she had already jumped, and all her attention was in Sumire’s subtle face movements, from the slightly cocked eyebrow, to the confused eyes, the subtle tilt of her head.

“They’re normal people? Senpai I don’t think I catch what you’re trying to tell me.”

She kept falling, having yet to collide against any hatred, which was surprisingly different to the Sumire she had cooked up in her head. She even considered having to explain things to her, terms and history, debunking some myths.

“Uh, I just wanted to know how you feel about them? I know you’re straight, but you know, I-”

“Straight?” She looked even more confused. “Senpai, I’m bisexual? I thought you knew that?”

_ What. _

  
  
  


_ WHAT. _

  
  
  


_ Since when? _

_ How? _

_ Huh? _

_ … _

Futaba stared at Sumire, who instead of retreating, looked even a little bold, ready to get defensive if it was necessary, a sign of having been out for a while now, and already being used to hatred, similar to the way Ann stood up straighter when anyone dared to say even the slightest thing against her or Shiho.

She blinked a few times.

…

Then looked at their food.

…

  
  
  


And then a horrible thought pierced itself inside her head.

  
  


_ SO THAT’S WHY AKIRA HAD LAUGHED AT HER. _

**_THE BASTARD KNEW._ **

Knowing her face was most likely blank, she raised a single finger. “Please wait a second, Sumire-chan.” Then, she pulled out her phone.

**\--Gay panic support group--**

**(Alibaba; LesbiAnn; Nasty crime boy; Inari the furry)**

**[Alibaba]:** AKIRA U BITCH

**[Alibaba]:** ANN U TRAITOR

**[Alibaba]:** MAKING ME SWEAT FOR NOTHING ARE YOU KIDDING ME

**[Alibaba]:** yusuke ur the only safe one my sweet boy

**[Alibaba]:** BUT UR ON THIN FUCKING ICE

Then she turned to look at Sumire with a pleasant smile, who had continued eating with a look of pure confusion on her face.

“So, I was going to tell you that I’m pan, and I asked Ann and Akira for advice, and they were all vague and shit about you, and for days I thought you’d hate me.”

She was silent for a few seconds as she raised up her head to stare at Futaba. Then, she erupted in pure, elated laughter. It was loud and rough at the edges, imperfect but authentic, the sound erupting seemingly from everywhere in Sumire’s body.

It turns out that when Futaba jumped, she had just prepared herself to fly.

She broke in laughter as well, relief flooding her body and draining her of the darkness that had accumulated. She threw her head back, unable to stop her joy, light clawing its way through a part of her worries, blinds opening and filtering sunlight in one of her darkest rooms.

She wasn’t losing a friend today.

In fact, she was understanding one a little better.

Sumire had stopped laughing by the time Futaba had collected herself, instead staring at her with a fond smile, leaning her head against her hand. “I really thought you knew, Senpai. I would’ve said something if I knew you didn’t know.”

She nodded, still unable to will away the smile on her face. “I-just. I really thought you’d hate me. I thought you’d run away or something and that I’d be too much of a coward to follow you, or that you’d be so disgusted, or-”

“I’d never hate you, Futaba.”

  
  
  
  


They changed subject after that, going through many things rapidly, at one point even debating what was the point of wearing skirts to school, if pants were obviously superior, while Sumire defended the cuteness of the skirts and introduced to Futaba the option of making them optional for those who still wanted to wear them. She didn’t understand who would willingly wear something  _ this _ itchy, but then again maybe Sumire’s thighs were way tougher than she thought-  _ Okay, dangerous train of thought there go back go back go back-  _

  
  
  


It was as if a glass wall had been broken, shattered to pieces between them and turned into a dome where just the two of them existed.

She hadn’t said anything about her crush, that would have to wait for later, but for now she didn’t need to say anything, joy had permeated all other feelings and left her simply with many questions, with a want to know her better, to  _ understand _ . 

Food was eaten, laughter was shared, too many drinks were ordered just to spite the diner. 

“Okay but hear me out, if you performed to an acoustic, instrumental version of All Star, wouldn’t that be beautiful.”

“Of course. My leotard would be green, as well. The only lyrics allowed would be, faintly, ‘Get out of my swamp’. It’d be the best performance of my career.”

“Dude, I’d pay your coach to see that. C’mon, I’d tell her. Let Sumire express her inner turmoil through a truly emotional ballad.”

Sumire almost snorted out the milkshake she had ordered.

When the crowds swallowed them both once more a couple of hours later, they moved to look through different stores for ridiculous knick knacks and talk about anime. 

They went from picking plushies around and taking selfies with them (Futaba hid her face behind the stuffed animal in most of them, her face appearing in only one, where Sumire was putting the animal on her head.), to picking up novelty items and trying to figure out just  _ what exactly  _ they had been made for (“What’s that rubber duck doing there?” “It judges you, Sumi. Judges your sins as you shower.”).

Overall, a show of romantic consumerism without the consuming part.

  
  


The subject of sexuality came back up a long while later, when Sumire grabbed a scarf that happened to have pastel shades of pink, yellow and blue organized in stripes and tied it around Futaba’s neck, grinning and rushing her to a mirror, peering behind her. 

“Look!” 

The hands that had been used to spin her around remained on her sides while Futaba looked, their warmth leaving a small print on her body. 

“I-” She let out a soft little laugh. “I love it.” 

Sumire put her face closer to Futaba’s, almost squishing their cheeks together ( _ holy shit Futaba keep it together don’t blush don’t blush oh fuck- _ ) and put something over her own head and the headband already on it, another headband, this one with lilac, pink and baby blue stripes. “Pride theme!”

The gesture was soothing, a way, Futaba realised a little bit later after they had exited another store, to let her know Sumire not only understood, but actively supported her. She had ended up buying the scarf and the headband using the part of Akira’s fund she had reclaimed for herself, out of impulse rather than anything else. Then, she stored said items in her pockets.

  
  


“Sumi?” 

“Yes?” She asked as they moved down the street. “Uh. How long have you known?” The Sun had begun lowering, and the clouds that had begun accumulating turned from boring greys to vibrant shades of purple and pink. 

People walked by in their own little bubbles, different stories colliding for those half seconds where eyes would meet and fade away. 

“A long time. Since I was a kid, actually!” She laughed. “I’ll tell you the story some.. some other time.”

The past was.. still a sore subject, huh.

Futaba nodded, letting her fill the silence only if she wanted.

“But I’ve been out for a long time too! My parents sort of knew all along? I wasn’t very subtle about my childhood crushes.” She grinned. “They were worried about my safety? But I’ve never been censured by them. And things are going well!” 

“Uh, and gymnastics?” 

She turned to Futaba with a cute little shrug. “So far nobody has asked me too many questions.”

It felt as if everything was always a little harder when one was openly queer.

Sure, one could keep it silent, but for the price of being themselves.

Futaba looked at the way Sumire carried herself with an air of wanting to keep going, of a fighter who had been through a little too much. Who had thought herself someone else for a while, and then shattered that illusion.

“When I thought. When I thought I was Kasumi, I repressed myself for a while. Kasumi.. she wasn’t like me. Never was.” She adjusted her coat, to keep her hands busy. “I’m trying to be myself. Without the delusions, without the lies. My dad, back then, grabbed me and asked,” she lowered her voice. “Sumire? What’s going on? Did we do anything to make you feel like that?” She snickered. “I answered him I was alright, that everything was alright! How couldn’t it be? And I kept talking. Over his questions, over his worries. I kept talking, and talking, higher and higher till he stopped asking and just looked at me with worry.” 

The crowd dwindled around them the closer they got to Yongen. 

“Then Akira-senpai came around. Tall and handsome, he was kind, a good listener. He was perfect for Kasumi! Someone she would’ve loved. And I.. I think I loved him too. Someone who could just, woosh! Come and save me from my problems.”

Futaba tried to hide her grimace at being reminded of her crush on Akira. After all, this was one of the only times Sumire talked this seriously, and she didn’t want to interrupt her.

“But when I met him a little better I realised that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the one I needed. I met the Phantom Thieves a little more properly, talked to them more. And you know what? I found out he wasn’t the one I wanted to know better in that way. Not at all.” Her eyes flickered towards Futaba’s, a secretive smile on her lips.

_ Uh, what. _

She blinked in confusion about her sentence, but before she could dwell in her thoughts, she was interrupted by Sumire’s chirpy little tone. “And what about you! When did you know?”

“I uh- what?”

“I asked when you knew.”

“Well.. before my mom died.”

“Oh. Do you want to..”

“No! No. I.. I was eleven? And I was still at school. And I used to get bullied pretty hard for how weird I was. The other kids always accused me of cheating because I’d get perfect scores on my tests, it was terrible. And I mean really terrible, sometimes during recess I’d lock myself in the bathroom and cry. That terrible. Not a single friend, it was.. bad. Then this girl, Kana, transferred to my school. She was absent a lot at first, then when she was there, the other kids bullied her, like they did to me.”

She glanced towards Sumire, who had her eyebrows knit together in worry.

“But one day, she comes up to me and tells me good morning. And she kept doing that everyday from then on. She kept doing it till I finally said it back to her. And.. we talked for a while. She didn’t mind how weird I was, or how odd my movements were, or if I suddenly dumped a whole truck of info about dumb shit at her. And.. she was beautiful.”

“And.. what happened?”

“I saw something I shouldn’t have from her diary. It had been an accident, I hadn’t meant to see it, but the pages had flown everywhere and I.. ended up seeing it. She yelled at me, and I..ran. She moved away soon after, and that’s where it ended. Crush severed from the sheer force of embarrassment. I talked to her more recently? And we’re kind of.. online friends now. It’s a thing. But yeah! That’s when I knew I liked girls. And then I discovered how my sexuality worked, and had a whole crisis about it, a long time later. But that was like, the catalyst.”

Sumire seemed pensive for a few seconds. “I’m glad you trust me, Senpai.” Her tone was soft, reverent as they walked to the familiar alleyway. “Thank you.”

“I- dude, don’t say it like that! I’m the one that should be glad you took this thing so well!” She smiled at her, getting a softer smile back. “Oh, and, before you go!” She rummaged inside her pocket, holding out the headband she had bought before to Sumire. 

  
  
  


“Here.”

  
  


Sumire’s eyes seemed to glitter the moment she took it, gently, from Futaba’s hand.

“Senpai, I. Would you like to do this again sometime next week? You could come to my practice if you want?” 

She looked expectant, and how the hell was Futaba going to say no to that pretty face?  _ How? _

“Sure, dude! It’s a-”

Sojiro came out of the cafe right before she could finish her sentence, and looked in between the two girls. 

_ Sojiro, no. _

“Oh, did you two go shopping?”

_ Bad Sojiro. _

Sumire straightened up, grinning up at him. “We did, sir! It’s so nice seeing you again! But I have to get going, or else I won’t catch the train!” She began walking away, waving at Futaba. “Bye Futaba-senpai! See you at school!”

_ SOJIRO WHY. _

“Huh. Nice girl.” He turned to Futaba.

“Yeah, she is.” She was still watching in her direction, not catching the way Sojiro’s eyes narrowed, and a fond smile set on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> up next: "Honey, you've got a big storm coming"
> 
> We'll leave Futaba to rest for a little while.   
> Sumaru City is back, and so are some darker aspects of the fic.


	12. chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goro's back, and Akira finally gets that beef bowl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second part of chapter 11.  
> The main course, we could say.
> 
> :)

The staring contest between the dead man walking and the overpowered math teacher went on the following Friday, and by then Goro's blood was boiling. 

He had spent the days before looking up the murder case his professor had been involved in, but he found himself hitting a wall halfway through, that no matter how much he tried to pry into, kept itself impenetrable. 

For some reason most of the case was hidden from the public, and even searching a little further than a normal citizen would gave no more details away. 

_ (As if someone had scrubbed off names and addresses on purpose.) _

__

All that could be seen was that the murders had happened, that they had been quite gruesome, that the man behind them was currently serving jail time with apparently no possibility of seeing the outside world ever again, that Jun Kashihara, alongside two more names Goro didn't recognize were involved, and that was it.

_ That wasn’t fucking it. _

It couldn’t be.

He had hit a blank white wall, and those eyes seemed to taunt him, make fun of him and his lack of progress.

He hated not being able to get answers.

And it wasn't as if he could snoop around secured police files either, that was a surefire way to get him spotted a little too alive for the taste of those looking for him. 

As he watched the infuriatingly private man talk about Euclid and his goddamn space like he was giving a sermon and the students following along were a bunch of braindead devotees, he fiddled with a pencil, making subtle stab marks against the fabric of his pencil case, following the rhythmic cadence of his phrasing.

"As for the laws of internal,”  _ (stab)  _ “and external,”  _ (stab) _ “composition regarding vectors," his voice went on, as Goro stabbed particularly hard the pencil case. 

He hated being kept in the dark about things. 

It made him feel like the  _ small fucking ant  _ he was turning out to be, as it turned out not only Akira and himself had immense power, but apparently a random professor in the middle of Sumaru City as well.

Was the God chosen game a regular thing, then?

Had this man been in another version of the metaverse and the connection that had coursed through them been residual power left from that game?

Did this man have a persona at some point in his life?

Was Goro being paranoid?

Oh, that last one?  _ absolutely _ . 

But if this signaled a connection from both having been in the Metaverse..

Why didn't he feel Akira's power when they made a baton pass? When they shook hands, when Akira touched his shoulder?

Were the both of them simply too weak?

It wasn’t like he could go to the Metaverse either, it had been destroyed.

_ (Right?) _

  
  
  


_ What was going on? _

How come one random man in the middle of a train station made the entire atmosphere around him whimper in fear, and a random college professor made an entire study hall hang off his every word, while  **_Akira_ ** **,** **_Golden Child of the Entire fucking Universe_ ** **,** didn't so much as rustle a leaf in the normal world?

  
  


A little smug smile drew itself on Goro's face in the midst of his mind shattering theories.

**_Turns out Golden Child isn't so golden after all._ **

It also made the magnitude of his own power a lot more underwhelming, but at least he was self aware now, and Akira still believed himself an all powerful idiot, so. He still won.

( _ He thought of Akira's heartbroken face when he found out that random unimportant people had power leagues above his own, his questioning over whether he still had value or not, the moment when he could feel for even a second how Goro himself had felt the moment he found out about the Phantom Thieves.  _

_ He didn't want the sentiment to go on forever, of course not, Joker in all his dumb smugness was gorgeous after all, but.  _

_ He wanted him to doubt himself for fucking once.  _

_ He wanted to wipe off the protagonist's complex off of him, make him feel, no-  _ **_know_ ** _ that he wasn't better than Goro. _

_ It wasn't fair that only himself had to go through this disillusionment. _ )

As he watched the man of his current frustrations, he let his mind wander a little into the past.

**The week before this class had been.. interesting.**

In between his rummaging through folder after folder of information that felt like trying to pull off a tooth from a particularly tough animal, he got an invitation from Julia Schwartz to finally meet up with the study group she had mentioned to him the Friday before.

When she had invited him at first, he couldn’t help but chalk it up as pity for the new student she would forget all about. But no, it seemed she had actually been serious, sending him a text with a cutesy emoji at the end detailing in which cafe they would meet, at which time, and who else would go. 

Goro couldn’t give less of a fuck about it. 

He wasn’t the type of person to have friends, much less a whole ass study group, he wasn’t exactly sure if he even was a person anymore and not just a rotten corpse that somehow Maruki with the last bits of his power had actualized into walking. 

But as he glanced around the dingy room he had been staying in, and knowing he didn’t have any excuse to go outside as Sumaru Prison’s Jazz Thursday was still a few days away, he began to actually consider it.

_ He didn’t have any feelings towards it _ , but he needed to comb his hair three times, just to check if the dye hadn’t faded, he assured himself.

_ He could give less of a shit about a good first impression _ , he told himself as he laid down different clothing options from his limited wardrobe on the floor and settled for baby blue along with cream gloves (he wasn’t going to show his mangled hands to them if he could avoid it), and his light brown pants.

_ He didn’t care about anything _ , he exclaimed in his head, as he sent Julia a text saying he would be there and finishing it off with a sparkling emoji.

After all, he was a monster.

_ And monsters didn’t have friends. _

  
  


_ Not for too long. _

  
  


So he wouldn’t go, he said to himself as he walked inside the cafe and was waved over by an enthusiastic Julia, who had no ingrained sense of boundaries. 

Grabbing his arm eagerly, she sat him down next to a quite attractive man, hunched over his work and looking like he was struggling, only glancing at Goro from the corner of his eye.

“Okay everyone, this is Amamiya..”

The name, for some reason, made Goro feel a little displaced, like he was taking someone else’s possibly canonical name, but he wasn’t exactly sure why. After all, he had come up with it on the spot.

“Goro. Goro Amamiya.”

There were three more people seated at the table aside from Julia and himself, whom she quickly introduced. One was a girl with dyed blue hair and heavy bags under her black eyes, sleepily waving at him. “This is Deepika, she’s in her first year.” 

Then Julia pointed at another girl, this one with black hair so straight no pin could stay in place, who nodded at him. “That’s Yoko, also a first year.” 

And finally, she pointed at the gorgeous man sitting next to Goro, with bleached blonde hair, angular features and elegant brown eyes. “And last but not least, this is Hiroto, a second year student. We call him Lambo, though.”

He raised an eyebrow at the disconnected nickname, and Julia grinned enigmatically, Hiroto shrugging his shoulders. “You’ll need at least level four friendship to find out, Amamiya.” His voice was high and grating, and Goro began reevaluating whether this man was attractive or not.

After the introductions to this odd little group, the afternoon had gone pretty well, or as well as Goro could consider a study group could go, his basis being the media he had consumed and not real life experiences, having turned down offer after offer of hanging out with his fellow students back in the day when the Detective Prince lived, knowing they would be all up on his face instead of anywhere near the excuse they had used to invite him out.

Now, however, he didn’t have this issue, another gift from the terrifying freedom he was experiencing.

He simply could be an average person, without the deadly threat of disappointment and lowered ratings.

Small talk came easily, topics Goro could easily bullshit and divert, things that could have a simple answer without the need to reveal too much about himself. He let the group know a few things, from liking bouldering and going cycling, to reading philosophy books and playing chess, to which he was questioned why he was in engineering, instead of the humanities.

_ Because it’s out of character _ wasn’t exactly a good answer, so,

“Because I like challenging myself.” 

Well, that wasn’t entirely wrong.

They accepted it, and in turn shared with Goro their interests, little snippets from lives parallel from his own, experiences that had been robbed from him the first time he landed in the Metaverse and had decided that the best possible thing he could do with his power was take revenge over his mother’s death and his life coated in suffering.

Or perhaps, he never would’ve had those experiences anyways, as being an orphan was tough, and he could only wonder what it would’ve been like to never have awoken a persona, and being stuck in the foster system forever, with no chances of ever making any attempt at revenge.

  
  


He wondered if, even despite the suffering ingrained in the foster system, he would’ve been happier.

  
  


For one, he wouldn’t be a murderer.

A small flame of jealousy set in his heart as Hiroto talked about friends that were loyal to him despite him moving away, of long video calls, of people who wanted him around. As Yoko spoke of her best friend with so much love. As Deepika spoke of experiences in a country he had never even considered going to till that point.

But at the same time, the moment he was silent they tried to integrate him, to keep him in the loop of their conversation.

It was..

Liberating, in the way nothing had been expected of him through the exchange, not a political agenda to push, no fangirls to keep content, no cameras on his face. When he failed saying a word and stuttered, it was simply glossed over and not the reason to cut the camera and redo the take. When Deepika talked about her passion for basketball it wasn’t out of wanting to be seen as relatable but simply because it was the truth, and if Yoko liked e-sports it wasn’t because she was trying to sell Goro something.

There were no discussions of stolen hearts and death sentences, no pity from the way he was raised and manipulated, no fate of the world in anybody’s hands.

Just five young adults complaining about college work.

  
  
  
  


By the time they disbanded, Goro had felt the numbness retreat a few inches, and had enough energy to keep going with his little research project.

Perhaps, if he kept himself busy enough, the numbness wouldn’t feel so overwhelming.

  
  
  
  
  
  


On Thursday, Goro was back in Sumaru Prison, still with no alcohol in his drink, but finally a possible lead for his fake ID. 

It had taken a lot of rummaging around places Goro couldn’t be too proud of, but there had been talk about someone who could help with that paperwork, mainly focused on people who just couldn’t wait a few more years to finally drink or those who really wanted a driving’s license to take their girlfriend out for a spin, but it would be enough. 

It wasn’t the best thing, but it was the closest to an identity he could get at the moment without having to go crawling back to Sakura and ask for her help, with all the pain it would bring. 

Using a throwaway email address, he had contacted the man that supposedly could help, passing himself off as simply someone who needed an ID and a driving’s license

for personal reasons, that he was only sixteen, but he had the money, and the age he needed to pass himself off as was eighteen. He finished off his charade of a dumb teenager and not a supernatural hitman by adding strange grammar and too many exclamation points, selling himself off as naive and stupid.

After all, it was always better to be seen as less capable than one really could be, just in case.

He checked his phone one more time in the bar, but there was no response, so he moved his attention onto the bartender that had just come in, who was pouring one of the clients a layered drink, the different material compositions of each ingredient making it so the colored stripes kept themselves well formed, the result being a drink that slightly resembled a sunset landscape.

Their eyes, just as ethereal as the rest of them, locked with Goro’s, and it took only a second for their face to light up in recognition. They sauntered towards him, a soft smile on their face. “Look who’s back!”

“Well, I did say I was planning on becoming a regular.”

“And you’re more than welcome to, darling.” 

“There is a performance tonight, isn’t it?”

“There is! We’re bringing back this band that hasn’t played for us in a few years. Have you heard of  _ Seno Suelto _ ?” When they mentioned the spanish name, it surprised Goro a little that the person could easily pronounce it, and he wondered if it was because they enjoyed the artists, or if they could speak the language.

As for the band itself.. it didn’t ring a bell.

“I’m afraid I haven’t.” He offered them a sweet smile, to which the bartender raised an eyebrow.

“Too early into the night for your prettier smile?” They teased.

“Huh?”

He had defaulted to his practised TV pose without even noticing, interviews after interviews still ingrained in his muscle memory.

“Oh, I. It’s a habit to hide it, I suppose.” If he had stepped into the line of oversharing, it had been because he had been prompted to. The bartender nodded, their eyes betraying slight curiosity. 

“Well, to those that beat the habit into you, fuck them. I know what it’s like to have to behave a certain way for others, and it’s not comfortable, darling. It’s better to just be yourself.”

He stared into his own drink, brown hue having turned black from the lighting around him. “I suppose sometimes it’s better to follow orders, even if you despise them.” He shrugged, taking a sip. 

“Well, it’s easier, honey. That I’ll give to you. But if we all followed orders, life would stay stagnant. And for you, I think you’re too big to be confined.” There was something in their eyes, in the conviction with which they spoke. Something that made Goro wonder just what exactly this person had lived through.

“But ah, what do I know!” They shrugged, then had to move when they were called to serve another drink. “Have a good night, darling.”

  
  


The words sank inside of him, leaving a strange aftertaste that couldn’t be washed down, despite the strong flavor of coke.

  
  


He had gotten there early, so the bar began to fill up after him, regulars and visitors seating themselves to wait for the show and talk amongst themselves, some college kids making a beeline for the arcade machine, determined to settle a rivalry. Goro watched with slight interest their friendly dispute, for a moment thinking of the time Akira had discovered he had switched hands, and the feeling of thrilling excitement that had gone up his back at his trick being pointed out. 

He wondered how that group knew each other, if there was any morally bankrupt outsider among them, or if the Phantom Thieves had just been particularly unlucky in their choice of acquaintances.

As the band settled down and made a few soundchecks, he watched a couple people whispering amongst themselves and not so subtly referring in the direction of the stairs, where a couple was descending.

A tall, and impressively so, man dressed in a sharp black and blue outfit was accompanied by who looked to be his wife, a lot shorter and in matching colors, both moving through as if they knew the place from memory. They approached the bar, moving to stand by Goro’s right, which gave him a better view of the man’s glistening silver piercings all over both of his ears, matching the multiple necklaces adorning his neck and the rings that crowded his hands. His black hair had a hint of blue in it, the light from the bar accentuating it, making him look a little bit unreal combined with the pale skin and the expressive eyes framed by eyeliner. 

_ Damn. _

Not really his type, but damn.

He had to pry his eyes away from him to not look like an absolute creep, instead turning to look at his wife, a petite and curvier woman, her black hair so long Goro wondered, if it was real, how the fuck she managed to comb it. Her makeup looked flawless, icy blues contrasting with her sharp dark eyes and her soft lips, which were curved into a gentle smile directed towards the bartender.

“¿Y? ¿Te están tratando bien, o tengo que ir a agarrarme con alguien?” The man shouted eagerly, in perfect spanish, to Goro’s surprise, as this man looked completely japanese. His wife had a hand over her wide grin, having a wedding band in between her multiple rings. Ah, so Goro had been right. 

They looked too in sync to be anything else.

He had absolutely no idea what the fuck they were saying, but the bartender didn’t seem threatened in any shape or form, so Goro assumed they were being friendly. 

“Mire, si alguien me dice algo, vosotros vais a ser los primeros en saberlo.”

“Los vamos a cagar a trompadas.” The man 's grin looked slightly dangerous.

“Cielo, por el amor de Dios. Nadie va a pegarle a nadie, ya no estás en Kasugayama.”

The only word Goro caught in that conversation was the word “Kasugayama”, which he had seen in maps to be a local highschool. 

_ So this man was a local, huh. _

It still didn’t explain the fluent Spanish, but-  _ Wait. _

When the man switched to Japanese as he sat down along with his wife, he noticed the recognizable way he entoned his words. He then turned to observe the man a little better, and not just his embellishments. The angled features, the pointed nose.

  
  


Then it dawned on him.

He had seen this man before.

_ Where, though? _

The bartender looked at Goro with a little smile, leaning towards him after having served the pair their drinks, having taken a lot more time than usual with them in the efforts of serving them perfectly.

“The establishment’s owners.” They explained with a conspirational tone, obviously having noticed Goro’s dumb gawking.

Oh.

  
  


…

_ OH. _

  
  


Goro thought of a picture in a verified Instagram account, of a renowned chef, restaurant owner and ex visual kei figure, having one arm looped around his math teacher and grinning, the professor having a subtler expression but depicting joy nonetheless, his hair completely out of his face instead of threatening to cover one of his eyes as Goro had begun to get used seeing him, and with makeup on, matching the other man’s. Both looked a little tipsy, their cheeks pink, leaning against each other for support.

**Michelsama** local cryptid finally gets picture taken lmao!!  **@Kjjjn** stop being a stranger! love you!

**28.540 likes**

**Kjjjn** Never.

_ (See 1276 comments) _

  
  
  


_ Oh, god fucking damnit. _

One of the pieces of this elaborate puzzle surrounding his teacher was right next to him and  _ of course it had to be the unapproachable personality. _

He spent that night subtly glancing at the couple next to him, and couldn’t even concentrate on the, admittedly very good, jazz. He thought of the possibility of finally getting information. However, with his celebrity status removed, there wasn’t much he could do to approach them.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Understanding what a vector is, is crucial for this semester. So if anyone has any doubts, no matter how stupid they may seem to you, please ask. We’re all here to learn, not to compete, or embarass each other.” The phrase broke through Goro’s mind like a bullet, when he realised he had spent most of the class in his own head. 

Kashihara-sensei looked curiously at Goro, subtly raising one eyebrow at the way he had suddenly readjusted his position on his desk. “Amamiya-san? Do you have any questions?” His tone was neutral, careful, as Goro (utterly embarassed by the way his own thoughts had made him slip up and look like a complete fucking failure) rattled in his head any possible question he could come up with.

Kashihara-sensei waited patiently, hostility hidden under his practiced friendly movements.

“Could you please repeat the concept of magnitude? I don’t seem to have a good grasp on it.”

“Of course!” He offered Goro a smile that, in any other circumstance where this man wasn’t shady as fuck and neither was he, would’ve made him sigh dreamily.

  
  


After making himself into a completely useless embarrassment, and then having to pretend to be dumb in order to cover it up, Goro had decided to book it the fuck out of there, maybe try to throw himself down a tall enough building. 

He was becoming  _ weak. _

The stress was obviously making him less sharp and in the moment.

_ That, was a sign of upcoming mediocrity. _

_ Goro Akechi didn’t do mediocrity. _

He did things well, too well, that’s why he had gotten away with so much, yet it seemed since the year before, he kept slipping up. From the moment that fucking cat talked about pancakes he was thrown off balance, and it seemed the move to Sumaru City had made things even worse.

He waved goodbye to Schwartz, and was about to almost  _ run  _ out of there, when his “name” was called.

“Amamiya-san? Could you stay for a few seconds? I need to talk to you.” Kashihara’s voice had an edge of palpable hostility, but Goro straightened his back, and nodded, turning towards him, waiting for the other students to finish emptying the study hall.

* * *

The rain that overtook Inaba on Friday was more than welcome, and Akira could barely contain his excitement as he pulled on his rain boots.

( _ Ah, the rain boots, proof of a successful heist. He had told Futaba to order them for him on Monday, and to make the package arrive at a house he knew the owners weren’t using till summer holidays. On Thursday they had arrived, and Akira waited till it was nighttime to get them, rushing back to his house with them in his bag and Morgana over them already tearing up a bit of the package. _ ) 

Morgana circled around him just as excited, having groomed himself to perfection, and taking a brush with him, so he could ask Akira at lunch to brush him until he looked picture ready for their meeting with Akira’s new friends. Sure, Morgana could seem like a dumb cat to them, but he wanted to be a handsome dumb cat, damnit.

He had packed everything he needed. Some of the money from his account that Futaba had sent him to pay for the meal, the extra set of keys to his house just in case, his ID, his phone, a scarf just in case as the days were still too chilly, and enough motivation to last a whole day. 

Adjusting his gloves a little tighter, he checked himself out in the mirror once more, more of a nervous tick than anything. 

Yu had warned him that his friends could get a little loud and overly excited, but he had been around Ryuji and loved every second of it, so he was sure he would be fine. His black locks, despite the humidity, weren’t acting up too badly, his face was clean, and he would’ve purchased and put on eyeliner if the thought had occurred to him a little bit earlier.

Well, that reflection was as good as it was going to get, so.

With Morgana safely in his bag, he was off, walking as he shot his non biologically related sister a text with one hand, holding his umbrella with the other. 

  
  


**07:35**

**[Smooth criminal]:** Operation get the boots was a success. nwn

**[Gamer rights]:** great dude have a great lunch date with ur buds

**[Gamer rights]:** and tell me when u get home

**[Gamer rights]:** safety n shit

**[Smooth criminal]:** Will do. OwO

  
  
  
  


The rain enveloped everything, but most of it was caught by Akira’s clear umbrella before it got either Morgana or himself. 

It made the streets of Inaba darker, slower, but it kept Akira company. 

People hid from the rain under their own umbrellas or under any roof they could find, too worried with themselves to stare at the delinquent taking his sweet time to go to school. 

He avoided any puddle that came in front of him with a little bit of a flourish, finding himself giddy to finally have an actual group of friends in this hellhole. 

Despite the thick clouds, to him it felt sunny. 

The fields let out their scent, wet grass and a little hint of something else that could either be pesticide or the leftovers of rural activity, mixing itself with the _ subtle fog _ enveloping Akira’s feet every dramatic step he gave.

Even once inside Yasogami, others didn’t seem to pay him much attention, too busy in between whines of wet hair and stories about the past, about murders none of the kids in his class could have possibly been witnesses of, but who whispered anyways with the sort of grandeur only a survivor of a disaster should’ve had. It made Akira snicker a little, only semi curious, having seen when he was younger the articles about bodies hanging from telephone poles and mysterious happenings. He gently nudged his suspiciously ripped bag from its spot under him, and when he didn’t get any distress signals back, he flopped back forward, to stare ahead, and avoid any eye contact that could possibly bring anger towards him in a day that so far had been as perfect as a day in this hellhole could get. 

Luck was apparently on his side today, as not even once he had been thrown even a single glare. 

They were too distracted by the fog.

When he was younger it had been the same way any time there was fog in the air, like a miniature Halloween, where students huddled alongside each other and talked about how this guy had apparently saved Inaba, about demons hiding in the darkness and midnight channels that you better not watch, else you got cursed. 

Akira, meanwhile, had doodled a silly portrait of himself and Morgana, which he proceeded to send to Yusuke. The guy must’ve been close to his phone, as he replied immediately, half complimenting half insulting Akira’s “naif” style, and sending back in mere minutes, a way better made portrait of Akira, Morgana and himself. That made an idea bloom in his mind, and by lunch, when he checked his phone again, there was a sort of badly made art collaboration between all the Phantom Thieves, crowned by Yusuke once more, who proceeded to redraw the final collaboration (Ryuji’s, in which he had expanded Haru’s idea, and had added himself and her holding hands like before, but now both wearing sunglasses), in precise strokes and with way better coloring skills than any of them.

Badly rendered ideas made him a little annoyed, after all.

The final piece was.. eclectic, to say the least. 

Akira and Morgana in the middle, smiling brightly, flanked by Yusuke at one side and Ann at the other, who was holding hands with Shiho and whispering some secret to her. Then there was Makoto, with a soft smile and sunglasses over her head, right next to Ryuji and Haru, both making a “partner in crime” pose, the sunglasses vaguely reminding Akira of a sci-fi movie he hasn’t watched in a long time. And finally, sitting at Akira’s feet, grinning together, Sumire and Futaba, both making peace signs together. 

  
  


It was wonderful.

However, Akira couldn’t shake the feeling of their picture missing a final member. 

  
  
  
  


He saved it in his camera roll anyways.

  
  


He texted his Tokyo friends goodbye when he got out of school grounds, and they all wished him luck in his new escapades, that they hoped he ate well, and that everything went alright.

The moment had felt like dusting an old book and opening it on his favorite passage. That group chat hadn’t been used in ages, all individually texting each other instead, or splitting off in different small groups nowadays, but for those minutes?

Akira felt like  _ he himself  _ was being dusted off.

The rain fell even harder, and water ran down the old worn streets. Akira closed the little window he had of Tokyo, and instead immersed himself in Inaba’s rainy day.

  
  
  


**15:45**

**\--The cult of the meat dimension--**

**(Smooth criminal; Cat lover 3000 ; Retail comrade ; Chie :) ; Yukiko Amagi ; ??? ; ??? ; ??? ; ??? )**

**[Smooth criminal]:** Hey everyone! I’m out of school! nwn

**[Cat lover 3000]:** Hey Akira-kun! Great. Do you still have the address I sent you? :-)

**[Smooth criminal]:** I do.

**[Retail comrade]:** well see u in lk 20 mins kira-k 

**[???]:** “kira-k”? yosuke. 

**[Retail comrade]:** yea lol kk

**[Retail comrade]:** aKira Kun or kira-k

**[???]:** i apologise on behalf of yosuke, akira-san. 

**[Smooth criminal]:** There’s no need! Haha. I think it’s cute, actually. -w-

**[Retail comrade]:** see naoto

**[Retail comrade]:** he thnks s qt

**[???]:** suit yourself, akira-san.

**[Cat lover 3000]:** Well, yes, I believe him more than capable to put on a suit himself.

**[Chie :)]:** hmm that was a weak one yu

**[Chie :)]:** anyways!! akira-kun!! yukiko and i are almost there!! when you get there just walk in and look for us

**[???]:** Good news, everyone!

**[???]:** I’m on my way. <3

**[Retail comrade]:** hell yea

**[???]:** NAOTO AND I WILL BE THERE A LITTLE LATE, PLUMBER ISN’T GONE YET

**[???]:** I’M SO EXCITED TO MEET YOU AKIRA-KUN!!!!!!! :D

**[Retail comrade]:** ted why

**[Smooth criminal]:** I’m excited to meet all of you too! nwn

  
  


And he really was. He made his way, humming softly to himself, to the restaurant they had agreed to go to, a door he had walked past a lot of times while holding his mother’s hand, but never been allowed into. 

When he finally arrived, shaking his umbrella at the door before closing it, he found himself staring at the lights that hung over the establishment with interest, admiring the way they resembled suspended flames with their color scheme. There seemed to have been a few renovations, from the polished tables to the brand new looking lucky cat that sat over the corner of the counter, but that didn’t stop the place from looking utterly homely.

The scent of cooking meat filled his nose and the clouds of vapor coming from the kitchen filled his soul with excitement to finally try the “great challenge” Yu had told him about.

People talked amongst themselves, but a few were shooting not so subtle glances towards him, and others in another direction, whispering things that Akira wasn’t very sure he wanted to find out. 

However, that didn’t put him off his good mood. Instead, he puffed out his chest and continued walking in, staring with wonder at a place his parents hadn’t had let him in.

Chie had told him to look for Yukiko and her, right..?

His eyes flickered from table to table.

And right as he finished that first thought, in between red hues and golden details, he found himself being waved over enthusiastically by Chie to a table, her bright green jacket contrasting violently against the place’s atmosphere.

“AKIRA-KUN! HERE!” She squealed, with seemingly no regard for this thing called not shouting where literally everyone else could hear her. 

Honestly, Akira was a little impressed by her confidence. 

He walked towards her, and his hand was quickly grasped into a rough welcome, slotting their arms together and making their bodies bump against each other, the contact emphasized by that  _ same sensation _ he had felt when he had first touched her. While more muted than the absolute shock that had been Yu, he still found it odd.

_ Maybe he was just touch starved? _

He had hugged Morgana, yet it didn’t produce the same feeling.

_ Maybe he just was excited to make new friends? _

It still didn’t explain the very unreal sensation.

And then was the final possibility, one Akira wasn’t sure whether to dwell on, or not.

That he had met persona users. And a whole team of them.

On one side the thought was absolutely exciting, electrifying even, but on the other? The thought felt foreign,

_ Terrifying. _

_ Terrifying in the same way he had felt when he had to leave Tokyo. _

_ In the way he wasn’t sure if he would be able to return to Futaba and Sojiro in one piece. _

_ In the way he wasn’t sure if they would even want him back. _

  
  


_ In the way that if he wasn’t special, he was nothing. _

There were also many questions, in that regard.

How come he hadn’t seen any of them in the Metaverse?

Were they areas of the Metaverse they hadn’t had access to in their adventure?

Had there been another world threatening adventure before, and Akira had simply not been aware of it all? Had his memories been erased?

_ How did it feel, when they lost their powers? _

_ They lost their powers, didn’t they. _

Well, of course.

Personas didn’t manifest in reality.

  
  


The avalanche of thoughts made Akira’s head spin with questions he had no answers to, and he repressed the hunger inside of him to want to know more.

As they let go, Chie offered him a sunny grin, and, making a show of being conspiratorial, she whispered. “Did you bring your cat?”

He mirrored her gesture. “Yes. The cat is in the house. I repeat, the cat. Is in the house.”

“Great! Well done, agent!” She snickered and bumped his shoulder, before moving backwards to talk to the chef, her hand movements loud and fierce. It let Yukiko come closer with quiet grace, her white cardigan pairing with her long black hair beautifully. She moved a careful hand to Akira’s arm, gently grasping it in a gesture of comfort, offering him a sweet smile. “Did you have a good day at school, Akira-san?” The electric current didn’t feel surprising from her, not really. 

It felt like meeting yet another old friend, but this one felt like one of those who would brush Akira’s hair and kiss his forehead before sending him off in an adventure. He felt.. reassured. Not mothered, no, but like she was someone Akira could lean against, and she would not crumble.

_ How long had it been since the last time he felt anything like that? _

He offered her a smile that he hoped transmitted half of the wonder he felt at the way such a small contact could say so much.

Her smile portrayed the same feeling.

“I did, actually. It was quieter than usual.”

“Oh? Because of the rain?”

“No- I mean, yeah? The fog. With the whole conspiracy theory about it being murderous and sh- stuff.”

Yukiko raised a delicate eyebrow, an enigmatic look flashing through her eyes.

“Ah, yes, I have heard quite a lot about it.”

“Did they also gossip about it when you were in school?”

“We could say that.”

In the way she smiled, Akira felt she knew something he didn’t.

“Uh, what do you-”

“Hm? What are you guys talking about? Oh! And, Akira-kun? You can let Morgana peek out. We’ll shield him from too many looks.” Chie interrupted, having said that last part a lot more quietly than Akira had expected from her powerful voice box. 

“Yeah, he’d. He’d like that.” He proceeded to do just that, letting Morgana’s cute little head peek out and meow as a greeting. 

“Hiiii Morgana.” Chie leaned to pet him. “Agh, he’s so cute.”

Morgana seemed a little cocky from the compliment, and Akira had to suppress the urge to tease him about it.

“We were talking about Akira’s school day, Chie.” Yukiko offered a way to reel back into conversation, as they sat down and waited for the others to come.

“Ooooh, who’s your teacher, hm?”

“Mr. Murakami.”

Chie seemed to be looking around in her mental files if she had known that particular teacher at some point.

“Nope, doesn’t ring a bell. Is he good though?”

  
  


_ He could tell the truth about that, couldn’t he? _

_ It wouldn’t make him too lame, would it? _

_ Would it reveal he was Shameful Kurusu? _

  
  
  


“The man hates my guts.” He grinned, and from the corner of his eye, he swore he saw Morgana’s proud expression for finally having said the truth in _ something _ .

“What! Oh, fuck that guy! If he can’t see you’re a great kid, fuck him.”

“I don’t think I’d like to do that. He doesn’t look like he’s a good lover.”

Yukiko tried to repress her laughter by putting her hand against her mouth.

“Noooo, no. Never fuck someone that old, Akira-kun. Never.” Chie followed along with him, shaking her head solemnly, trying to suppress her grin. “And besides, you shouldn’t be fucking anything! You’re a kid! How old are you again?”

“Seventeen.”

“See! A toddler!”

“Hey! I’m almost an adult!” He was grinning despite his protesting.

“A very respectable young man.” Yukiko supplied.

“Don’t agree with him, Yukiko!”

They didn’t have to wait too long for the next group to appear, consisting of Yu, as dashing as always, this time in darker greys to accompany the rain and a splash of tasteful teal in the collar of his jacket that brought attention to his beautiful facial features, Yosuke, who had an arm hooked to Yu’s, sharp collar bones framed by the white v neck over his tan skin, and a third person Akira didn’t recognize.

A short white guy, with radiant blonde hair and playful blue eyes, dressed in an outfit that reminded Akira of the men in victorian european books, yet contrasted with a personality that would fit right in in Tokyo with the bubblier, bouncier denizens of Harajuku. 

“AKIRA-KUN! IS THAT YOU? HI! I’M TEDDIE!” If he had thought Chie’s voice had been loud, he hadn’t expected this one, and neither the way hands grabbed his sides and squeezed, basically the distanced form of an excited hug, and even less the way Akira almost felt **_electrocuted_** in a completely different way than with any of the other ones in the group. 

It..

It had felt as if Akira had just been enthusiastically greeted by a piece of the Metaverse itself, as if a piece of bone or charred flesh had suddenly decided to turn into a blonde twink and hang out with the only cool young adults in Inaba.

He must’ve stayed there petrified a little too long, because the moment he came to his senses, Yosuke was berating Teddie, and Yu was on his face, waiting for him to respond.

“Akira-kun? Are you okay?”

“And  _ especially not after  _ **_that_ ** _ ,  _ Teddie, holy shit, do you want to give Akira a heart attack? Did you even rest after hanging out with them? Took a  _ shower, at least? _ ” 

“But it shouldn’t affect him? Hasn’t he been around things like me before?” 

“Teddie, he’s not even- Ugh, we’ll talk about this later, okay? When we get back.” Yosuke looked annoyed, but more in the way of an older brother trying to explain to his younger sibling why touching a light socket wasn’t a good idea than anything else.

_ What.. “things like me”? _

_ Wh-  _ Yu broke his thoughts with another wave of his hand in front of his face.

“Akira-kun?” Yosuke joined as well, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m fine! I’m fine, just- what..”

Chie and Yukiko looked at each other, then at Yu and Yosuke, then at Teddie, who tried to give Akira space, but looked terribly guilty.

_ There was something going on, but he felt that asking questions then and there would put Teddie in the spot even further. _

“Nevermind, guys, I’m fine. Really! I was just startled by Teddie-san, that’s all.”

“Are you sure? Do you want us to ask for a glass of water?”

“No! No. Seriously. I’m alright.”

“If you say so..”

There was concern thrown his way, but he dismissed it all, and changed the subject of the conversation, away from the pile of rapidly accumulating questions in his head.

  
  
  


Two more people joined about half an hour later, when they had settled, Akira being in between Yu and Yukiko to the absolute pain and joy of his bisexual heart, because  _ fuck yeah, beautiful people.  _

The newcomers settled next to Chie, exchanging softer greetings with the group.

A black haired man and his partner, both dressed in muted colors, the man having a deep healed scar on one of the sides of his head, his partner a shaving cut on their cheek. They looked a bit off from the rest of the group, but the atmosphere of affection remained, so Akira wondered if their integration to the group was new, or it had been severed before and was now recomposing itself. 

“Oh, I don’t think you three have met each other?” Pipped up Yukiko the moment she saw the man trying to talk to Akira but deciding not to at the last moment for the third time. 

Akira nodded at them, not sure how exactly to approach them himself either, raising an awkward hand to wave. The taller of the two ran a hand through his black hair, then held it out, offering him an awkward smile, thankful for Yukiko’s intervention. “‘s nice to finally have a face to match the text, Akira-kun. I’m Kanji Tatsumi.” 

“It’s nice meeting you, Tatsumi-san.” The familiarity at this point was expected, and welcomed, so he smiled a little wider at Kanji’s own surprise. “Uh- call me Kanji.” Akira nodded, testing out the name. “Kanji-san.”

To Kanji’s side was someone else, who looked at Akira a little warily, but otherwise seemed pleasant. “Naoto Shirogane. It’s nice to see you’re doing well, Akira-san.” Their voice didn’t have much of an intonation besides their disarming expression, and they didn’t hold out their hand or anything for Akira, so he simply gave them a little smile. “I’ve heard about you, Shirogane-san. In the news. Never seen your face before now, though.” Their own smile widened as well. “I’ve heard about you too, Akira-san.” 

“I hope not too much bad stuff.” 

“Not at all.” They, just like Yukiko before, looked as if they knew more than what they let on.

Yosuke turned to Yu, who was concentrating on his phone. “Hey, partner? And Rise? Did she say where she was at?”

“She should be here in five minutes. I asked her if we should order for her, she said ye- oh heeey, Morgana!”

Morgana, who had been silently laying in the bag for a while had pulled out his head, looking around at the others and meowing in greeting. Yu seemed immediately drawn to him, making little ‘pspspspsp’ noises and petting his head. 

“Wait, did anyone tell Akira-kun who Rise is?” Kanji questioned.

“Oh. No, I don’t think so.” Yu blinked. “So.. do you like idols, Akira-kun?”

He blinked a few times in confusion.

He did, he had a poster of Risette in his room and all her discography, and discs of other idols, all of those now shoved away in a box after he had been away for a year. The only thing that remained was the poster.

“Yeah..?”

“OOOOH, YOU HAVE ANY FAVES?” Teddie screeched from Yosuke’s side. 

“I uh.. I like Risette?” He shrugged. “She sings very well, and she’s from here, so that’s pretty cool.”

Yu’s eyebrows shot up, and an amused grin settled on his face, while Yosuke looked pretty excited from beside him. However, neither of them said anything to Akira, or even explained the relation between this Rise and the idol questi-

Wait.

WAIT.

_ No way. _

“No way.”

Yosuke couldn’t help but bark out a laugh.

“No way. No, no way.” Akira didn’t outwardly express too much excitement, but he kept shaking his head.

Holy shit, he knew he had some sweet connections himself, but it seemed this group also did, and at least one being a lot cooler than his.

Food came at the same time as Rise, who Akira confirmed was none other than  _ the  _ Risette, famous idol, worldwide sensation, part time youtuber. She sauntered in like she owned the place (and honestly, she could), with her big sunglasses and dark red hair bouncing along with the way she rhythmically made her way to the table. 

Akira thought about the poster in his room, and realised it didn’t capture  _ at all _ the sheer warmth and love the idol seemed to irradiate. He looked at her a little more closely, at the rings and manicured claw nails that probably cost more than his entire savings, at the layers upon layers of tailored clothing that kept her warm and stylish, the perfectly applied makeup on an already beautiful face. 

He imagined the connection they would share as something just as warm, maybe happier than the one he had felt with Yukiko.

But when the others stood up to hug her and greet her, and she grabbed both of Akira’s hands to lean against him and beam at him..

There was nothing.

Nothing outside of being slightly starstruck.

She felt the exact same as his classmates, as everyone he had touched back in Tokyo, as what human contact was actually supposed to feel like and not the rarity that had been Yu’s electric current.

Her hands were warm, her perfume was sweet, but Akira had realised then and there that the electric touches weren’t excitement or familiarity, but an actual sensation separated from himself, and the possibility of supernatural shit had gone up way higher, and oh fuck Akira wasn’t sure if he was ready to face more supernatural shit-

“--Akira-kun!” Rise was still grinning at him.

_ Holy shit, supernatural or not, Risette was grinning at him. _

He weakly grinned back, and tried to disguise the way his whole body had lit up in a strange mixture of excitement, wariness, confusion and sadness. It had seemed convincing, or at least she had been polite enough not to ask, and instead moved to sit down right next to Naoto, kissing their cheek while they fought to break free from her, a fond smile on their face. 

“How have you all been? I missed you so much!” 

  
  
  
  


It turned out the idol was more down to earth than Akira had ever expected, exchanging quick banter and happy little gestures with everyone. 

“Kan-chan, I saw your mother updated the store? It looks lovely!”

“I uh, yeah, Naoto helped. We’re changing it to make it look a little more.. themed.”

“We’re making a new counter, it’s going to have the Tatsumi name engraved.”

“Oooooh, you’re trying out woodwork?”

Kanji nodded. “I’m learning engraving, Naoto’s the one with the woodwork.”

  
  


“Senpai, Yosuke, I hadn’t seen you two since we last hung out in Tokyo! I love that you kept your hair longer, Yosuke, it really looks a lot better.”

Said man beamed at her. “Got advised by the best.”

Yu nodded. “Remember when you first chopped it all off?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me, I thought I looked so cool, why didn’t anyone tell me!”

“We did! You just didn’t listen!”

  
  


“Chie, how are your kids?”

Chie grinned at the opportunity to talk about her students. “They’re kicking some ass! This year I have an odd bunch? But they’re picking everything up very fast, so.”

  
  


“Yukiko! I saw that the inn is looking absolutely amazing! Did you get what I..”

“I did. Thank you, Rise.”

She clapped her hands together, grinning.

  
  


“Teddie, is that shirt new? It suits you!”

Teddie looked more than excited to talk about it, yelling about how he had been making pinterest boards for all his everyday fashion and his crossdressing ideas.

At the subject of crossdressing, Akira perked up, inserting himself in the conversation instead of being a passive listener, which turned into a huge discussion about Teddie’s gigs in Tokyo, and how he should totally go perform at Crossroads, a thought that hadn’t even crossed Teddie’s mind before. The whole time, Morgana kept being petted by everyone at the table, but ended up at Rise’s lap, and was absolutely elated from being pet by the idol.

  
  
  
  


And then, the moment for the ultimate challenge came.

  
  


“Akira-kun.” Yu began dramatically as a wonderfully smelling bowl was set in front of Akira’s face.

“It takes understanding to accept it as a whole, knowledge to set the proper pace. Courage to attack the mountain of meat, dedication to keep on eating. All these skills are needed to finish off the..  **Mega beef bowl!** ” He had even raised his fist a little, for emphasis.

The food, the mega beef bowl, it looked amazing. 

Akira was determined.

Silence fell over the table, all eyes on him.

“I. accept the challenge.”

“THEN GO!” Teddie squealed, signaling Akira to begin his quest through the meat dimension.

It had looked amazing but,

It also tasted amazing, bite after bite of meat that never seemed to end, Akira shoveling it in his mouth, getting elated cheers as a response to his competency on meat management. He gave Morgana a few bites too, so he could enjoy himself, which then turned into many, the others all scrambling to give the cute baby kitty a little bit of meat. 

At one point his and Naoto’s hands brushed, and once again, like with Rise, he felt nothing.

That.. was..

He would have to file away his findings, to try and make sense of them afterwards, but for now, he didn’t want to dwell on the what ifs.

He just wanted to enjoy himself.

Chatter filled his senses, loud and animated, the group including Akira as much as they could, telling him of old stories and anecdotes shared together, of times Chie fell down on her butt while trying to snowboard and of Naoto falling on top of Kanji in a very awkward position, of the good and bad of being in Inaba, of change and politics, the way Shido’s old party didn’t seem to be wanting to give up, instead making a whole campaign to clean their name without Shido there, the head of the operation simply cut off clean and replaced with another, as simple as that. 

Chie shouted indignated, Yukiko laughed a little too hard from Yosuke’s spiel about the size of Inaba’s potholes that got interrupted by him choking on a piece of meat, Yu piped in with stories about times Yosuke’s bike had to narrowly avoid the fuckers in the street while patting said partner’s back. 

  
  
  


It felt a little bit like those times in Leblanc with his Phantom Thieves.

  
  


But different, in the way there was a fondness for each other only time and a long list of previous fights could produce, in the way nobody hid anything from the other, the way Chie could easily kiss Yukiko’s cheek and nobody in the group batted a single eyelash.

  
  


It made Akira yearn for something like it. Morgana seemed content as well, having moved from cooing at Rise’s ministrations when she gently and carefully moved him away, to settling on Yu’s lap, having both his and Yosuke’s hands idly petting him as they chatted. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


This.. he could get used to these people.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When the Sun went down and the restaurant only had them as clients, it was finally time to say goodbye. 

Yosuke and Yu had an early morning the following day, so they couldn’t stay for any more time, Kanji needed to give his mother her medicine, so Naoto had to go as well, as they were the one who had the keys to get inside. Teddie had wanted to stay, but seeing everyone was disbanding, he quickly settled himself in between Yu and Yosuke like an eager child. Chie and Yukiko both had to leave as well, waving their goodbyes as they silently left hand in hand. 

It left Akira with a strangely bitter sensation, an emptiness in his chest from happiness to having to be back there, in that house, with his parents.

On the dark street only remained Akira, Rise, and Morgana, settled in his bag.

“Rise-san? Are you..”

“I wouldn’t feel well leaving you alone, Akira. C’mon! I’ll walk you home.”

“But you? Your safety?”

“Hey, don’t underestimate me!” She giggled. “You’d be surprised, but I can throw a pretty mean punch.”

And so, they walked. 

The streets were empty, only the sound of rustling grass and the occasional passerby filling the air.

It smelled like leftover rain, and the threat for it to begin again.

He clutched his umbrella tighter.

Akira turned to look at Rise as they walked, still a little unbelieving that he had the same idol that he had on a poster walking right next to him.

And so, he voiced it. “I have a poster of you.”

“Hm? Oh, you’re a fan of mine?” 

“Not.. not a crazed one. Don’t worry.” He put his hands up in mock surrender. Morgana meowed annoyedly, since he wasn’t sure whether he could speak with her around.

“I never thought that.” She laughed. “I was just wondering if you wanted me to sign it for you?”

“If it doesn’t make you feel weird, then I wouldn’t complain.”

She giggled. “It doesn’t! It makes me feel happy that I make others happy.”

He nodded, knowing how that felt.

They kept going, in comfortable silence.

  
  


“How’s.. how’s Inaba treating you?” Her voice was soft, competing with the splashes of water against their feet.

A little startled from being suddenly addressed, he blinked at her. 

How.. how had it been treating him?

_ Great, Rise. Amazingly. People want me to fuck off, my parents hate me, everyone wants to see me fail and sometimes I fucking want to, after copiously crying for a few hours, set someone on fire.  _

_ I wouldn’t, but the feeling is there. _

“It’s.. it’s been an experience.” He settled for saying.

It only served to make her look worriedly at him. She glanced around, seemingly debating what to reply to him, and Akira mentally berated himself for saying stupid shit in front of her.

“You.. have they been making fun of you, Akira-kun?”

_ How.. _

_ Did she know anything? _

_ How did she know? _

_ Was he that obvious? _

  
  


He lifted his head upwards, to stare at the moon peeking through the nighttime clouds. Rise’s eyes stayed on him.

  
  
  
  
  


_ (That was their first mistake.) _

  
  
  


“I.. kind of. I did something last year and got transferred to Tokyo. Now I’m back and people don’t really like the concept of me being back.” Well, it was mostly true, wasn’t it. 

Morgana mewed at him, and at first Akira thought he was being berated, but the fond tone in his mewing showed Morgana was proud of him, for at least having said something.

  
  
  


Rise’s whole attention was on Akira, studying his face with delicate worry as he looked at the sky.

  
  
  
  
  
  


_ (That was their second mistake.) _

  
  
  
  
  


“I’m sure whatever you did, it’s not worthy of being bullied.”

“How do you know that, by the way?”

“I. Chie told me, she heard some of her students talking about you. She just.. wasn’t sure whether to bring it up tonight or not. I’m not sure when I’ll be back, so. I wanted to talk to you before I couldn’t.”

  
  
  
  


Akira looked at her as if she had grown a second head.

  
  
  
  
  


_ (There was the sound of a car engine nearby.) _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“That’s..That’s really nice of you, Rise-san.”

  
  
  
  


She offered him a sweet smile. 

“I just. Know what it’s like feeling alone. Having eyes on you doesn’t mean you have friends, after all.” 

  
  
  


She took Akira’s hand in hers, swinging them together. He raised his eyebrows, but let it happen, swinging it along with hers. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ (Huh, hadn’t they already seen that black car?) _

  
  
  
  
  
  


They kept holding hands, and Akira couldn’t help but be a little flustered, his cheeks heating up pleasantly.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“If the eyes become too many, and you need someone to vent to, I’ll be there. I can’t say I can come for your rescue, that I would have to leave for someone like Yosuke or Yu, but. I’m offering you a friend to confide in. And maybe a fashion assistant.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He let out a louder laugh than the sound the car engine made as it followed them. 

  
  
  
  
  


“Aw, is my style that bad?”

  
  
  


“Not bad! Basic! You’re a very pretty kid, Akira-kun. You should exploit that! Win over some hearts, make those girls, or guys, whichever you prefer, swoon!”

  
  


_ Holy shit Risette had just called him pretty. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ (The streets were slippery, so of course cars had to slow down a bit in order to not crash.) _

  
  
  
  
  


“Both, actually.”

  
  


“Oh! Double the audience, then.” She smirked, letting go of his hand and using her own to gesture. “Imagine, with my advice and your good looks, we’ll make you a heartthrob!”

  
  
  


Small drops of water fell around them, and Akira opened his umbrella, Rise quickly hurrying next to him. 

  
  


“Oh, I could totally do your eyeliner, too. What do you say, hm? A full makeover with the one and only Risette? Oh, and a photoshoot afterwards!” 

  
  


“That’d be great. Would I be able to post pictures where you appear or..”

  
  


“I should have to ask my agent, just in case? But I doubt there would be any problems!”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The rain got heavier, a new coat of water over the already slippery street.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Maybe I could take you shopping sometime? If you enjoy that?”

  
  


“Is there any shopping to do in Inaba?”

  
  


“No, no! I’m offering it when you go back to Tokyo! Because you’re planning on going back, I suppose.”

  
  


“Yeah. That.. that’d be great, Rise-san. I.. went shopping on my last day in Tokyo, and it was fun.”

  
  
  
  
  


Thoughts of his last day with the Phantom Thieves blocked his perception.

  
  
  
  
  


“Then it’s settled! We could hit up Harajuku and dress us up in some crazy stuff! I’d be paying, of course. But I think it’d really help your confidence, Akira-kun!” 

She had gotten excited in what she had been saying, her spell only broken by the drops of water falling on her head, 

obviously having continued forward without him. 

  
  
  
  


“Uh, Akira-kun, the umbre-”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**The worst things usually happened quickly, and on the worst days.**

  
  


Morgana yelped loudly, Akira screamed, or was it Rise? At the sight of two men dressed in black grabbing Akira, their movements fast and practiced, having come out of seemingly nowhere. They scooped him up like he was nothing, like he was weightless, like if all his training and his anger had been worth absolutely nothing. They threw the umbrella he had been trying to defend himself with away, crushing it into the pavement with their boots, the metallic carcass breaking with a loud  **crack** . Morgana attempted to get out of the bag and claw the men, but one hit to his snout and he saw black, after which the man grabbed the bag and tossed it off too, towards Rise, who ran towards them, with full intent of harming them and grabbing Akira, only to be slowed down by getting the bag thrown at her, and stopped by one of the men that had seen her coming, grabbing her before she managed to throw the first hit, and tossed her into the ground, using those precious seconds to get Akira in the car, who thrashed wildly, but inside the car was restrained by a third man. By the time Rise had raised up and had begun once more to charge towards them, the last man had gotten inside the car, and the engine had begun to move.

“P-PERS-” She had tried to scream it out, but her eyes widened in tragic realisation, just as the car sped off in front of her. 

Even then, she ran.

She ran, as far as she could, despite the rain, despite the ground threatening to make her slip more than once, she kept her eyes on the car as long as she could.

_ The license, oh God look at the license number it’s so dark oh no, look at it, read it his life depends on it keep going keep going- _

The car took a sharp turn left, and when she tried to follow, part of her body collided against a streetlight’s pole, the collision making her lose seconds as she managed to run again, those seconds being meters of further and further distance that the car gained in leaving her behind.

  
  
  
  
  


The only sound surrounding her in between locked down houses and closed shops was the rain as she stopped, having lost them completely.

  
  
  
  
  
  


She had met the kid only for a few moments, and this had happened.

  
  
  
  
  


She stood there, as her coat soaked.

As the rain got louder.

As all the right side of her body hurt.

As she regained her breath.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


As the car had gotten so far she couldn’t see it anymore.

  
  
  
  


_ As she had lost a kid who seemed precious from their few interactions, who looked hurt, and alone, and she had wanted to make him feel better, let him have a few seconds with someone he very obviously admired, she had just wanted to make him feel happy, get to know him, be friends- _

  
  
  
  
  
  


…

_ Fuck. _

  
  
  
  


_ FUCK. _

  
  
  
  


“ **_FUCK!_ ** ” She yelled out, her hands shaking as she stared in the direction the black car had sped away in. If only she had been faster, stronger,  _ somehow  _ she could’ve been able to reach him. “Goddamnit! God, fucking!” She stomped her foot down against the muddy water, not caring when it splattered up her leg and onto her skirt. “ **Damnit!** ” her desperate whine was quiet against the heavy rain, hot fury clashing against cold drops, consuming her in between her desperation.

Her hands shook as she pulled out her phone. 

“ **_YU!_ ** ”

“Rise? Are you okay? We just got home, did something happen?” 

“ **NO! NO I’M NOT** , I-! I was stupid and weak, and I didn’t run fast enough, and I couldn’t save him, senpai I couldn’t save him.”

“Save him? What- did something happen to Akira?” She was put on speaker as she continued.

“YES! They took him, they took him and I couldn’t do anything because I didn’t do that stupid ritual and I’m the same as a goddamn civilian!”

There was commotion on the other side of the line. “Did.. did you see where the car went? It’s going to be okay, Rise. It wasn’t your fault.”

“It..” She tried to choke back a sob, to no avail. “It went so fast, they.. they seemed to be going south, but I don’t have my persona and I can’t locate him, Yu I can’t locate him. This is all my fault.”

“Rise, calm down, please, did you get a license number at least, anything? The people who took him, did you see them?”

“Yes, I saw the number, I saw it and I ran and I crashed against this thing and god fucking damnit-” “Rise tell me the license number.” “And if I hadn’t been so stupid and vapid and talked about fucking makeup maybe I could’ve heard the car and-”

“ **RISE.** ”

She shut up.

“Please Rise, take some deep breaths okay? Where are you? We’ll come get you. Now, please tell me the license number.”

She breathed out the number slowly, character after character in between ragged, hysterical breaths.

“Good, good, Rise. You did well, sweetie. You did well.” She let out a bitter laugh at the pet name, but couldn’t help feeling just a smidge better. “Now, where are you? Take deep breaths. You told me you crashed against something. Can you walk?” Yu’s voice was cool and controlled, but Rise could hear the background ruckus of Teddie getting everyone’s coats while calling the others, and the telltale seriousness of Yosuke making a couple calls to the allies they had.

“Sweetie. Focus on my voice, okay?”

“I. I can hear Yosuke and Teddie, Senpai.” She could feel herself smiling softly. 

“They’re helping, okay? Now. Can you walk?”

“Yes! Yes. I’m standing up.”

“Good. Tell me anything that could locate you. Is there any address around? Do you know where you are?”

“I- I’m not sure, I.”

“You’ve been here before, Rise. You know this place. It looks big and scary, but it’s the same Inaba.”

“I know, I’m just tired of almost losing my friends here.”

He let out a bitter chuckle through the speaker.

“Me too.”

She looked around, at the houses, at the familiar trees. She had been an excellent navigator, she could easily locate herself.

“I.. I’m close to Junes. Two.. two blocks away south.”

“Okay, you’re not that far from us, that’s a relief. Can you wait ten minutes? I promise we’ll be there then. I’ll be staying on the phone with you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Teddie already called everyone, and Yosuke already talked to Kirijo. We’ll be okay. Akira will be okay. For now, keep talking.”

And she did. “God fucking damnit, Yu, he’s this kid, and he was a phantom thief, and people made fun of him, and now he got fucking abducted, and.. He’s a good kid, Yu. A good kid!” She paced around the pole as she talked. “He had been all worried for me, and I told him I could throw a good punch and what was that even good for? I couldn’t get close to the guy!”

“You got ambushed, Rise. You’re not incompetent. Chie should know.”

“Still. I should’ve done it. I should’ve.”

“Rise. It’s okay.”

She sighed, adrenaline still buzzing inside her veins but slowly draining from her head.

Silence.

“Rise?”

“Yes, Senpai?”

“What did they do with Morgana, the cat?”

“They..”

_ The cat. _

“They knocked him out and tossed the bag. I- He’s not here with me.”  _ The cat that could talk. _

_ Holy shit the cat that could talk. _

“Don’t go looking for him, okay? We’ll go together and get him. We’re already outside, and on our way, Rise.”

“Okay, Senpai.” 

**It seemed like they would have a long night ahead of them.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> (as always, thank you for reading)  
> Next up:  
> Akira breathes.  
> Goro exists somewhere.  
> Jun, also exists.


	13. chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Futaba comes out once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!!! It was my birthday yesterday, so no updates till today!  
> We have a little palate cleanser for this chapter.  
> As always, thank you for reading!

His hurried steps echoed through the empty streets, hard rubber hitting cold pavement as he did his best to ignore the feeling of dread up his tiny spine.

It was getting darker as the hour advanced, as it swallowed everything in its wake, the sky slowly tinting everything a sickening shade of dark green. 

His steps turned faster, racing through the street, tiny palms trying to contain the cookie box clutched between them and keep it from slipping.

  
  
  


You see, Akira had made a mistake.

He had assumed the trip to be shorter, having made a colorful crayon map of where exactly to go once his parents had left for the weekend, all in efforts of getting himself the exact pack of cookies he had desired, instead of the blander one his parents usually got him.

He had tried many times to do it the honest way, underlining  _ exactly _ which brand and flavor his school friends usually brought, but no matter what, on his table there were always the flavorless other packages. 

Of course he couldn’t count on them to even do that.

So, he had decided that night to take matters on his own hands, and had succeeded! The clerk had stared at him in amusement, at the way his little feet had to raise up slightly to reach the package, and how he straightened his back the whole way to pay, carefully counting every penny. Yet.. he hadn’t seemed alarmed by the hour a little kid had gone to buy cookies.

Why was he out so late? If his parents had left hours before.

Why were the streets so empty?

Darkness engulfed them as his steps became faster. Not even the few streetlights could fight against it, their glow subdued and greenish yellow in hue, serving as the only lifeline in between reality and a seemingly endless dark space.

  
  
  
  
  


He could barely see the pavement.

  
  


Akira stood a little closer to the light, having stopped when there hadn’t been anywhere else to go, in fear he could lose a limb if any of them were touched by the absence of it, wrapping his arms close to his chest and keeping his face as huddled as possible by his scarf, clutching the packet so tight it threatened to burst. 

If his mind was a little clearer from his mental fog he may have questioned this line of thought, it was childish and ridiculous, and he was a big boy now! He was almost a decade old!

Which was, of course, the age to stop believing in monsters, fairies and cryptids that haunted children. 

But something.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Something in the darkness told him he was right to stay where he was.

  
  
  
  
  


The sky felt wrong, and so felt his head, a mixture of words and concepts he shouldn’t understand yet seemed to constantly feed the back of his mind, information his tiny hands, busy with the package, couldn’t grasp.

As the moon turned greener and greener, the few other lifelines in the nearby streets began to shut down. His eyes flickered around, distracting himself from the oppressive black sea in front of him, waves taking more terrain and never returning. 

He took a step back, only to hear the sound of something being crushed under him.

When he had looked at his spot before, there hadn’t been anything on the ground.

Lifting his foot, he found himself with the corpse of a black moth.

_ Poor thing.  _

Akira crouched down to stare at it closer, its twitching legs and destroyed wings, at the blood that pooled beneath it. 

  
  
  


He didn’t know moths had black blood.

  
  
  
  


Or that they bled this profusely.

  
  
  
  
  


More and more of the liquid came out of its tiny body, a spot of black liquid splaying itself over the sidewalk, a copy of the dark sea in front of him. 

  
  


He had to get out of there, back to his house, but no matter where he looked, all he saw was the moon, with a shine that meant absolutely nothing, lit up nobody, rescued no one.

It looked painted, fake. But so did the moth on the sidewalk, in the way it looked like frayed nerves and undone vectors, facets of polygons that clipped against one another. 

  
  


**Unnatural.**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The light twitched under Akira’s curls, the same ones his mother combed when he was younger, the ones his classmates ruffled amicably, the ones Akechi pulled to tilt his head back, the ones a policeman used to slam his head violently against the ground. 

The ones Akira wanted to shave off and ruin completely the more he looked at the dead moth on the sidewalk.

His childhood boots crushed it harder, over and over, as more blood flowed under him.

He had to get out, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere that wouldn’t swallow him up and turn him to dust, make a corpse float up and combust, a  _ lovely surprise to all the children in the playground that kept calling him a fucking f- _

  
  


He smeared the corpse with his tiny foot, and turned his eyes towards the light.

  
  


It flickered, inside slightly cracked glass and dirty electric connections, which only served to highlight further the creature that had landed on top of it.

When Akira stretched slightly, and got on his tiptoes to look better, he noticed it was a yellow butterfly.

It seemed to watch Akira, in that way only children could discern, the way the inanimate and the irrational understood about the darkness, about parents that weren’t too much around, about the times he spoke about his favorite video game till he was out of breath and all they said back was  _ aha. _

It stayed to Akira’s side, on the only light that was around.

“Am I going to be okay?” He asked, to no response.

  
  


The butterfly only watched and caused trouble, after all.

It never solved any.

  
  
  
  


The black sea was almost to his feet, and Akira had to retreat further, past the puddle of black blood, onto the light pole, calculating if he could climb it.

  
  
  


When he attempted, he had no strength, and nothing to help him. 

He had no wings, after all.

  
  
  


He wondered if Arsene could’ve helped.

He wondered who Arsene was.

The yellow butterfly twitched.

Akira’s soul twitched back.

  
  
  
  


When the sea finally reached him, and it extended a hand, Akira closed his eyes, and let himself be swallowed up.

* * *

Her eyes hurt slightly from the contrast between the bright blue light of her screen and the complete darkness surrounding it. She squinted, however, and kept on reading.

_ Raising issues with parents - Telling parents important things- _

**How to come out to your parents - Wikihow**

_ Coming out to your parents seems intimidating and daunting for many gay men, lesbian women, asexual individuals, and bisexual, pansexual or transgender individuals. For many people, your parents have spent more time around you than any other person, and coming out may shatter their perception of you. However, it is also important to be true to yourself and honest with your parents.  _

_ Creating a plan to come out to them will make the process easier to handle. _

The bed felt a little too warm to get out of, or perhaps it was more comfortable to avoid the crushing weight of what she had told herself she would do today rather than get out of bed and begin the day in which she, inevitably, would have to do it.

Well,  _ inevitably _ .

Not really, but Futaba was riding on a high of courage bigger than usual thanks to Sumire’s A+ reaction to her sexuality, and if it wasn’t while she still rode that high, she wasn’t sure when the hell she was going to do it. Anxiety filled the back of her mind, a constant feedback loop of possible ways she could get either kicked out, treated badly, or  _ worse _ , one scenario more fatalistic than the one before. 

  
  
  
  
  


  * **Consider how receptive you think your parents will be to the news.**



As she finally pried her face off of her pillow with a tired groan, and stretched her arms over her head, her mind was running a whole ass marathon in between images of an angry Sojiro and plates of cold curry forever and ever after. 

The dumb article suggested her to think, and while thinking wasn’t an issue, in fact, she thought so much at this point it  _ had  _ to be overthinking, thinking about Sojiro’s possible judgement wasn’t something she was exactly delighted to do. 

Going through rows after rows of mental files in her head, she couldn’t honestly come up with a single example where Sojiro explicitly spoke about gay people.

Neither positively, or negatively. 

  
  


_ Great. _

Sure, he made jokes of not having men’s numbers and never having men on his passenger seat, but those were mostly just jokes about herself and her insistence of calling him the past year, as well as to make himself a little more intimidating in front of Akira at the beginning of the past year. 

But  _ gay  _ people? As in the actual lgbt community?

Not even a peep. 

Well, he didn’t change the channel when something with gay people came in except when it was explicit uh, how would he put it,  _ adult activities _ , or the act of the  _ hoo boy _ , but. He did that with straight people too. 

He didn’t seem bothered at the prospect of Akira having visited Shinjuku’s bars, nor did his face change a single bit after having cleared up that he hadn’t gone explicitly as a patron.

His only objection was that he was too young to drink.

Overall, if he had a straight up homophobic stance, he didn’t seem to show so.

As she stepped inside the shower, she left her phone behind, but had already seen the following prompt.

  * **Decide how you want to tell them.**



Preferably, in person. Sure, texting was a thing, and so were letters, but dammit, she wanted to see the disappointment in 1080HD 4K, instead of having to wait for him to not only  _ read _ her message, but also craft a response. 

It would be even worse if he ghosted her, absolutely soul crushing, in the way that only a rejection through lack of reaction could feel: 

  
  


cold, 

  
  


empty.

  
  
  


She really,  _ really  _ wanted to avoid that. 

As she put on her uniform, sliding on the itchy skirt of doom up her thighs, she kept thinking of ways she could possibly begin the conversation.

_ She saw herself waiting at Leblanc for him to finish both their cups, after Futaba had called for him to please close the place, if they could possibly talk. She would stare at her coffee, at the way it swirled pleasantly, keeping its warmth in between her hands as a grounding line as she opened her mouth to say- _

  
  
  


_ She would stay at home and sit Sojiro down on the couch, joining him and looking away, too scared to talk about her feelings completely face to face with him, yet remaining a proximity that let him know she wanted to communicate, reach out, despite how hard it felt for her. She would take a deep breath and finally mutter- _

  
  
  


_ Sojiro would ask her what was up as they sat down on the place that used to be Akira’s home base, on the now wrapped up place that used to be his bed, and using the place she had come out to her brother of another mother as a grounding line, she would finally stutter out- _

  
  


She stared at herself in the mirror the moment she finished putting her uniform together, trying to avoid the subtle way her sweaty palms were shaking.

  
  
  
  


  * **Gather the support you need to go through with telling them.**



  
  


When she picked her phone back up, she found herself with Akira’s messages. 

**07:35**

**[Nasty crime boy]:** Operation get the boots was a success. nwn

( _ Well, at least  _ **_something_ ** _ had gone well.  _

_ Their improvised heist had begun that Monday, when Akira’s kind of heart, dumb of ass self had suddenly remembered he not only needed a pair of rain boots, but he also happened to be loaded with Metaverse leftover money, so he asked her to order him a pair of quality rain boots. However, there had been the whole “I live in a shitty household in a shitty as fuck town” issue, so together they came up with a plan spy movies would be jealous of. The package would arrive before Friday, but instead of the house where Akira’s parents were, it would instead arrive at a house Akira knew the owners weren’t using till summer holidays. _ )

She was glad everything had gone smoothly. And besides, Akira had a hot multiple person date that day, wouldn’t he? She was more than glad he had finally found people he felt comfortable to go out with in that hellhole, and even more that he would look great in the boots Ann had recommen-  _ COUGH,  _ Futaba had expertly chosen.

**[Alibaba]:** great dude have a great lunch date with ur buds

**[Alibaba]:** and tell me when u get home

**[Alibaba]:** safety n shit

Well, she knew Akira could kick ass if anything happened to him, but she still worried for her friends. Even more so now that she couldn’t kick down Leblanc’s door if the fucker didn’t text her back. 

Besides, she knew he would appreciate the reassurance that someone was looking out for him.

**[Nasty crime boy]:** Will do. OwO

Exiting that chat, she moved to Ann’s instead of the group one, as she felt like Ann would get her just a little bit better. After all, she was the one that had gone through the whole process of coming out in the traditional way, instead of Akira’s parent specific closet, or Sumire’s already open and supportive parents.

**07:40**

**[Alibaba]:** yo dude 

**[Alibaba]:** annnnnnnnnnnnnnn 

**[Alibaba]:** takamakiiiiiiiiiiii

**[Alibaba]:** queen of lesbos

**[Alibaba]:** final boss of the gal pals

**07:45**

**[LesbiAnn]:** Hi Futaba!!!!!!!!

**[LesbiAnn]:** Sorry, I just woke up!!!!!

**[LesbiAnn]:** What’s up????

**[Alibaba]:** thought so lol no prob bob

**[Alibaba]:** m going for operation sojiro today

**[LesbiAnn]:** Oh???

**[LesbiAnn]:** Futaba you’re being so brave!!!! That’s amazing!!!!!

**[LesbiAnn]:** I’m here for you okay?? Please tell me at which hour you’re doing it and I’ll be online for you!!!!

**[Alibaba]:** ann i swear to god youre a fuckin saint

**[Alibaba]:** ik ur gf would kick my ass but i could kiss u rn

**[Alibaba]:** thanks for being here for me dude

**[LesbiAnn]:** Shiho would totally kick your ass yeah but

**[LesbiAnn]:** Of course Futaba, you’re my friend!!!!! I’m gonna be there for you!!!!

**[Alibaba]:** still dunno the hour but the moment i decide ill tell ya straight away

**[LesbiAnn]:** Great!!!!!!

**[LesbiAnn]:** And remember!!!! Go slow, and if you see Sojiro isn’t being receptive to your hints abort mission!!! I wish you the best of luck Futaba!!!!

**[LesbiAnn]:** And I love you very much!!!!! Remember that!!!!!

**[Alibaba]:** dude ofc 

**[Alibaba]:** ily too

Well, if it didn’t go well, at least she had a confirmed shoulder to cry on.

  * **Find books, pamphlets or websites about the LGBT community to provide to your parents.**



About that.. Futaba found it a little silly. She felt silly, thinking about sliding Sojiro a colorful pamphlet only for him to raise a questioning eyebrow and never bring it up again. As she walked into Leblanc, and the man himself began making her breakfast, she wondered if she was rushing into this.

  
  
  


She was. 

  
  
  


The danger could be even in the smallest hint, it could come back to her and slap her awake, could make her see a world where love was conditional and there was only emptiness left in her and Sojiro’s relationship.

  
  
  
  
  
  


As she moved her hair out of her face, she wondered if Sojiro would’ve fought for her to keep it orange if he knew.

  
  
  


Coffee was as good as always, and she would’ve savored it, if it wasn’t for the rock inside her chest.

  
  
  
  


She wondered if staying inside the closet would be better. Not pursue something with Sumire, instead remain alone, or wait till she fell for someone more..  _ acceptable. _

  
  
  


The moment she finished that thought, she felt disgusting.

  
  
  
  


Not saying anything would mean keeping something important,  _ very important _ , away from the person who not only fought terribly to keep her, but the only remaining person who also knew the sound of her mother’s laughter.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


She wondered how her mother would’ve felt about it.

  
  
  


She had been an accepting woman back in the day, back before the stress consumed her and made her into a shadow of her former self. Perhaps even supportive. But then,

Then.

  
  
  
  


Then there were the studies in cold, calculating handwriting.

  
  
  


She wondered if she would’ve turned into nothing but a research subject.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Spoonful after spoonful of curry tasted like nothing. 

  * **Research questions you anticipate that they might ask.**



Some questions, she feared them more than others.

The one she feared the most had turned out to be “ _ why? _ ”

Why  _ what, _ exactly?

_ Why was the sky blue? The moon brilliant? Water wet? _

Sure, there were answers. Cold, calculated answers, researches and academic papers, hypothesis and theories, but nothing could truly begin to explain the way Futaba’s heart skipped a beat when she saw Sumire’s brilliant red hair and gorgeous smile, the way she looked at a woman in the street and longed to take her hand.

It was the same as asking why she was alive.

  
  
  
  
  


Then there were other questions, which she considered as she made her way to school, dozens of possible sharp knives thrown at her she would have to dodge to the best of her ability.

Not only from Sojiro, mind you, but of the people around her, of her classmates that by now had grown accustomed to her and didn’t give her a second glance. She wondered if living her truth would mean the same as having a huge spotlight thrown at her, making all her movements visible, all her mistakes laughable, all her physical flaws a possible  _ explanation _ as to what could possibly have made her that way.

_ Her mother died, you know.  _ Some would whisper.  _ Maybe she’s looking for a replacement.  _ Others would whisper back.

She would have to explain that no, she had felt this even before her death, and then wait for them to possibly believe her. 

  
  
  
  


Then again,

She owed them nothing.

But she also knew they would whisper behind her back.

  
  


She had seen it with Ann. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The school gates felt slightly more oppressive than usual, even more so with the knowledge that Sumire had texted her saying she wouldn’t be at school that day when she asked, as there had been a  _ little family emergency _ she would have to take care of. 

  
  
  
  


She felt alone, clutching her phone a little tighter.

  
  


  * **Have a back-up plan if the conversation goes badly and you live with your parents.**



She realised she had none. 

At most, she would have Akira’s moral support. Ann’s shoulder to cry on. But if things came out the worst, she would figure it out. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


She hoped she wouldn’t need to.

* * *

When he opened his eyes, he found himself moving. Volumes of grey and waves of pencil strokes surrounded him, tugging him along, in between a faceless crowd of scribbles, Tokyo lights having lost all their color, instead displaying bright white. Amidst the chaos, he tried to understand direction, perhaps magnitude, a means of measuring where the fuck he was supposed to go. Bodies crashed against him, Shibuya merciless in waves of person after person with their own lives navigating it all. 

Akira walked, and walked, sea lifting him up and making him either swim or drown. 

He ran through striped intersections and completely white neon signs, found himself in between cables and cars, scribbled face after scribbled face filling his sight. 

  
  


The moment his head made sense of it all, he found himself in the subway station, with enough room to stand still. Trains rushed by without seeming to stop, people running, pushing and crushing each other to fit inside, chaos in noir, the smell of hot copper filling the space and making him want to cough out a lung. He stood there, watching it all, glad to finally be out of the crowd. 

“Do you ever wonder how you’ll die?” A familiar voice mumbled next to him, tone light. 

  
  
  


_ What? _

  
  
  


When Akira looked at his left, he found himself with pure yellow eyes, and a black glove throwing long hair back. His back was straight as always, mouth in a mockery of a kind smile.

**_Beautiful,_** Akira’s mind supplied, despite his shock, which magnified the moment he looked down.

Blood bloomed slowly from his shirt, coating the school uniform he’d forever he remembered in outside of the Metaverse. An outfit that had made him seem older, more put together than what he actually was, a jumble of sequins and blood, mask after mask covering the seemingly deep empty hole under it all. 

Akira had wanted to unravel it all, pull the string and let it bloom out, the hatred, the anger, the sadness permeating his every move. And once it was unraveled, he wanted to offer out a hand. 

With Akechi, despite the murder, the envy, the lies,

He had never felt so alive.

  
  
  


Blood kept dripping out.

  
  


( _ Akechi hadn’t even had a proper burial. It made Akira want to scream, that after everything this boy had to suffer, manipulated until the very end, the universe hadn’t even given him the decency of  _ **_resting in fucking peace._ ** )

But it didn’t seem to be a bother, not even once scrunching his nose in cute discomfort like he did sometimes. When he got an eyebrow cocked at, Akira remembered he had yet to reply. 

“Not as dramatic as yours, that’s for sure.”

That let out a little snort from the Detective Prince, shoulders slightly shaking in amusement. 

“From what I’ve seen, you really want to drown.” It had never been Akira’s favorite mask on Akechi’s face, always slightly ill fitting, a little too saccharine.

“It’s got its allure.” His mouth replied for him, moving out of its own will.

“Oh, does it now?” His yellow eyes narrowed slightly, amused smile still there, the hand holding his suitcase hidden out of sight. “And here I thought I was scaring you.”

The current warmth in his chest was artificial, but so was the figment in front of him, and the scribbles surrounding them both. So, really, did it matter?

“I think I’ll die tonight.” He answered, shrugging casually, tearing his eyes away and looking back at the crowd, at their shared closeness to the train tracks.

“You won’t. I made sure of that.”

“Why?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


If Akira reached out a little, he could grab Akechi’s hand.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He didn’t.

“I prefer you suffering.”

The moment the train crashed, Akira didn’t feel much. He let himself be lifted by seas of panicked crowds, let the chaos fall upon him, and fold his body the way the impact most preferred. Before he could be completely swallowed up, however, he managed to let a truth out. 

  
  


“I miss you.”

* * *

  * **Choose an appropriate time and place to come out.**



“How was everything?” Sojiro had begun to ask as she sat at Leblanc, head turning to watch the tv in order to gather her thoughts together.

The woman in the news cheerfully went on and on about a feelgood story while Futaba was dying inside.  _ Go on, newswoman. Bard of the news. Keep talking about that fucking train station cat, come on. _

She hadn’t noticed how deep her frown was until Sojiro called her out on it with an amused eyebrow. “Are you looking to burn the tv down with that glare?”

She snapped her head back to look at him, sheepishly relaxing her face, yet avoiding looking straight into his eyes. It only made him worry further.

“Is something wrong, Futaba?” 

  
  
  
  
  


This was it.

  
  
  


This was fucking it.

  
  
  
  
  


She looked up at the ceiling, thinking of how different this scene would’ve been if she had Akira’s hand to squeeze, or Morgana’s soft fur to pet. 

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, and moved her hands along the action, to ground herself as much as she could. She was tempted to ask him for a cup of coffee but..

She wasn’t sure if she was about to ruin coffee forever for the both of them.

Well, she could still chicken out, couldn’t she?

  
  
  


But how long has she already known?

How long has she already hid this from the man that loved her the most?

Who had fought, tooth and nail, against the legal system, against her uncle, against so many others, to keep her with him?

The only one who truly understood the entire picture of her situation?

  
  
  


How long would it be till she got another surge of courage big enough to do this?

  
  


“Sojiro, I. When are you closing the cafe?”

“Well, there aren’t any clients, so. Gimme a second and I’ll close.”

“I- you don’t need to do that-!”

“You clearly look like you have to talk about something, Futaba.”

“I. Okay.”

He quickly went to close down the cafe, making sure to flip the sign after he had taken the trash out. After having washed his hands, he nodded towards her. 

“Alright. Do you want to tell me here, or at home?”

She blinked owlishly at him at the sheer speed with which he had done the whole process. The temptation to call Akira up and ask for his support was strong, but it was already late, so he most likely was hanging out with his new Inaba friends, and she really didn't wanna bother him. 

However, that didn't mean she couldn’t mentally have his presence with her. Leblanc, after all, had turned synonymous with him and Morgana.

"Here." She mumbled. Sojiro nodded, moving to a booth to sit down on, and beckoned her over.

She slid across from him, still not meeting his gaze. Ann had told her to drop hints, right?

But how could she? Was there even a way to drop hints that wouldn't be seen straight through? 

God, she suddenly  _ really _ wanted something to drink, and not coffee precisely.

**[Alibaba]:** bitch im doin this

**[LesbiAnn]:** Go Futaba Go!!!!!! You’ve got this!!!!!! I’ll stay alert for when you text me!!!!! But take your time!!!!!!!

* * *

Chaos swirled inside his cup. 

When Akira brought it to his lips, and gently kissed the liquid, the sharp taste of copper welcomed him back.

“Did you know some cultures believe in the  _ bad light _ ?” Akechi’s gloveless hands were full of little cuts, as he messed with the spoon in his own cup.

_ (He liked it with sugar and cream, even if he never would admit it. It was the reason why he complimented the coffee Akira made for him. He always made sure to sneak some in, subdue the bitterness enough so the undertones could come out. _

_ Perhaps he should’ve made more of that.) _

“What’s that?” Dim lighting enveloped them both, leaving strange shadows flickering through their faces. Both sat on opposite facing grey couches, the source of light being the lamp resting neatly on the coffee table between them, right next to snacks neither of them would dare touch.

( _ Something told him they were already too rotten to salvage. _

_ Akira had the urge to grab one and try, anyways. _ )

“They say seeing a shiny object in between all the darkness is a bad sign.” He looked just as amused as when Akira attempted a risky chess move, when he made too big of a show in billiards, when both armies of masks fell for a second, and all that was left was two teenagers trying to understand each other in the midst of a game bigger than any of them could’ve possibly imagined.

“Are you saying you’re a bad sign?”

That made Akechi’s brilliant yellow eyes close tightly, whole body shaking as he threw his head back in laughter. “Kurusu-kun! When haven’t I been one!” 

  
  


The way his neck bent was as inhuman as his laughter, and so was the oozing black from his cuts, matching the wound blooming from his chest and the dark circles that made themselves known the moment his head snapped back.

  
  
  
  


Despite it all, Akira had to visibly fight his fond smile.

  
  


When darkness filled the room and made it hard to breathe, Akira let himself be suffocated, eyes never leaving those beautifully sharp ones, even if the color was completely off.

* * *

  * **Come out to your parents by explaining your sexual orientation.**



Sojiro waited patiently for her to talk.

The wooden looked particularly polished today.

She pointed it out. 

"I don't think we're here to talk about wood." He chuckled fondly, but let her take her time. 

"Well, no. But."

  
  
  
  
  
  


_ Oh God oh fuck what did I get myself into. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Leblanc's lights felt dimmer, the crystal lamps shining innocuously, casting a golden shimmer to everything they touched.

  
  


"I'm scared." Her nails were a disaster. None of them had the exact same length, and most of them had broken edges.

She wondered if she was going too fast.

If it was better to go back to her room and hide.

To keep quiet.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Sumire's smile looked like an angel's.

  
  
  


A smile she was willing to kill a thousand shadows to keep as genuine as it felt. 

A smile she was willing to risk it all for.

The smile she had seen times before, in soft faces and delicate features, a beauty that made her yearn for connection, something greater than her pulling her closer. A devotion that could only be described as the need to run her hands through long hair and bring their foreheads together, as the need to fight and be fought for, the fierce protection of those that looked like her own. A need for a partner and an equal, someone to wake up next to and smile to fully, completely, knowing their bond was built in the foundations of truth.

  
  


If it made Sumire smile, Futaba felt like she could end the world.

  
  
  
  
  
  


She didn't want to wait until she loved someone else, someone who would seem more "acceptable", and then lie to them forever.

She didn't want to wait and cut parts of herself until what was left was the mold the world wanted her to be. She was more, so much more than what society forced her to be. 

So much more.

  
  
  


She wanted to love completely.

  
  
  


( _ Something inside her chest burnt _ .)

  
  


Lying to others felt like lying to herself. Denying forever, indefinitely locking the way she felt love and warping into a shadow of itself, something she would have to learn from movies and magazines, not innate. 

If there was any element of choice in her innate sexuality, it was the one to defend it even if it meant cutting people off her life. 

The one to stand alongside those that were like her and protect them as much as they protected her. 

The choice to not only be, but be with pride and rebellion, stand up as tall as Ann did as she walked with Shiho, a fire she lit up to the sound of her own heart beating. An unabashed declaration that the way she was born wasn't something to hide, but something to uphold and adore. 

That she wasn't shameful.

She wasn't sick. 

She wasn't something to lock up and hide the key. 

  
  


She.. she wanted to live her truth at least half as fiercely as Ann did. Whether Sumire returned her feelings or not, she wanted to stand up for herself, declare she loved, loved fully, and she wouldn't sit back down because it made someone uncomfortable. 

  
  
  


Sojiro took one of her hands on his own, the rough texture startling her slightly and pulling her out of her sexuality manifiesto. 

He offered her the gentlest smile she had  _ ever  _ seen on his face.

"It's okay."

_ It would have to be. _

  
  
  
  
  


She pulled her hands back.

  
  
  


"Uh, Sojiro, you know how I'm like.. going to school, and spending time with people my age.."

"Are you seeing a boy?" His face turned stern, but from how well Futaba knew him, she could see the hint of playfulness under the facade.

However, he was wrong.

"What! I- no. Sojiro, I-"

He tilted his head, a look of confusion clear on his face, nudging her to go on.

"Look." She took a deep breath. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ She saw him screaming at her. _

_ Refusing to look at her.  _

_ Talking over her.  _

_ Denying her feelings. _

_ Saying she was confused.  _

_ Him saying nothing at all. _

It swirled in her mind, option after option of deep rejection and hostility.

  
  


Sweat dripped down her back, oozed from her hands, her legs bounced, and she really tried to stop her eyes from the occasional twitch, which made Sojiro even more confused and worried the more he stared at her. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Despite this, she persevered. 

With a curtsy to the public, she leaped off the cliff.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"I.. I'm into girls." She blurted out. "I uh. I like girls, and boys, and everything but. I. I really like girls."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Sojiro stared at her.

She dared to stare back.

  
  
  


She hoped she would land again this time.

* * *

He felt as if he was falling, even if he couldn't move at all. 

A cacophony of color and sound surrounded him, shades of red, green and blue flickering violently, harming his skin when they touched him, each wave burning a layer, the sizzling noise echoing through the utter chaos, competing with the sounds of violent voices whispering in his ears.

  
  


_ Why are you here. _

_ You're a  _

_ burden. _

  
  


_ A  _

  
  


_ mistake. _

  
  


_ Nobody wants you. _

_ They all want joker, and you can't even  _ **_be_ ** _ that.  _

_ You couldn't save him. _

_ You couldn't save yourself. _

  
  
  
  


_ You're nothing but a  _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**_failure_ ** _. _

  
  
  
  
  
  


He wanted to scream, fight against it, wiggle till he was out,  _ away from the fucking- _

Under his charred arms he could see white.

Even if he could've screamed, at that moment he was sure he wouldn't have been able to produce a single sound.

  
  


As a sort of miracle, he managed to close his eyes.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When he opened them again, in front of him was a yellow butterfly.

* * *

  * **Explain your perspective in the moment to help your parents understand.**



Silence permeated the cafe.

An adoptive father and his daughter stared at each other for a few moments.

  
  
  


The cliff was taller than what she had calculated.

  
  
  


“Help.. help me understand, Futaba.” Sojiro knit his eyebrows together, but his gaze didn’t look hostile. 

_ She hadn’t been expecting this outcome. _

“Are you a lesbian?” The words packed no venom.

“I- no, I- I identify as pansexual?”

“Pansexual?” He looked a little taken aback, utterly confused. She flinched. “No, Futaba, I’m not. I’m not judging you, not at all. I’m just old, grew up in another generation, and don’t understand all these terms you younger people use so often. I.. I want to understand.”

_ She hadn’t expected  _ **_that_ ** _ either. _

And perhaps it showed in her face, because Sojiro chuckled lightly at the flabbergasted look on her face. 

“Teach me to be  _ hip _ , kid.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Hip.

  
  


_ Hip. _

The relieved laughter she let out was loud, and perhaps packed with tears. 

She couldn’t stop the sound, permeating her words and her whole body, making her have to double over for a few seconds. It made Sojiro laugh as well, having known the kid needed a moment to breathe normally instead of turning into Futaba soup out of nerves. 

Despite it being dark outside, Futaba felt like she herself could produce her own sunlight out of the sheer  _ relief _ that filled her every corner.

“I..  _ hah, _ I.” She calmed down enough to let out a coherent sentence after a bit.

“I..I like women, and men, and everything in between. Like, pan means all? So. Yeah. I like them all. But uh, I prefer women. Women hot.”

“Women hot.” Sojiro nodded along solemnly. 

That made her descend into a fit of giggles once more. 

  
  
  
  
  


“I- so, did I make myself understood?”

“You like them all, but prefer being with a woman. Look, kid, I. I know it’s hard out there. Life is brutal. But. I’m here to support you, in anything you need. And. I’m aware it’s not legal,”

So, apparently he knew more than what he had let on. 

“But when it is, and it will be, I will walk you down the aisle to see that woman of your dreams.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ What? _

Her eyes felt like they were burning. 

  
  
  


“You.. you m-mean it?” Her voice cracked, and she felt a weighted ball coming up her throat.

“I do. I love you, kid. I want you to be happy.”

  
  


The tears that were falling onto the table obviously weren’t hers. 

Of course not. 

Her face contorted in the ugliest way, but her grin couldn’t be wider, and more genuine. 

He stood up immediately, to hug her close, to which she latched on for life.

  
  
  
  
  
  


She had landed.

_ She had landed. _

**_She had landed._ **

**_She had landed!_ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**_Holy shit she had landed._ **

  
  


And the floodgates opened. Sobbing loudly she clung to him for dear life, while he kept her steady, rubbing her back. “ _ Thank you. Thank you so much. _ ” She whined on the crook of his neck, whole body shaking as her walls opened, crumbled down, letting the rays of sunlight through. She couldn’t help the way she sobbed and teared up, water running down her cheeks and onto his shirt while he rocked her softly to help calm her down.

“It’s okay, Futaba. I’m here.”

“ _ You are! Holy shit, you are- _ ”

“What kind of guardian would I be if I wasn’t, huh?”

“ _ Thank you so much, dad- _ ”

His breath hitched, and he found himself having to hold back tears of his own as he held Futaba closer. 

“I’m here for you, kid. Always will be.”

  
  


They spent a while hugging like that in silence, while Futaba cried her worries, her fears, her anxieties out. Tears had flooded that spot in Sojiro’s shirt, and perhaps some had fallen on Futaba’s hair, but.

They were from happiness.

They separated once Futaba stopped shaking, rubbing her eyes with a wobbly smile. 

“Hey, kid.”

“Y-yeah?”

“What do you say if we go eat something out tonight, huh?”

She was two seconds from crying again.

“ _ Yes. _ ”

“Ice cream, normal food? What are we in the mood for?”

“I- Ice cream.”

“Ice cream it is. C’mon, let’s go.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


As they made their way out of the parlor, carrying their respective orders, Sojiro spoke up.

“You know, I suspected something like this.”

She paused in the middle of getting a spoonful in her mouth. “Huh?”

“You aren’t subtle at all, kiddo.” He chuckled, scooping up some of the ice cream that was falling off her cone as she simply stared at him in complete disbelief. “So, how are things with that Yoshizawa kid? Asked her on a date?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ Oh,  _ **_GODDAMNIT_ ** _. _

“ _ YOU KNEW! _ ” She gasped in both offense and happiness of being teased like this. She.. hadn’t thought she would get teased like this, not at all. “I was going to, when you appeared the other day!”

“What kind of father am I if I don’t do that?”

“ _ DAD! _ ” She huffed.

“Dad me all you want, miss, but I want to meet her properly. Woman, man, or whatever, I want to make sure they won’t break your heart.”

“I.. we aren’t even dating!”

“Yet! She’s enough of a menace like that!”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Hey, dad?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

He almost dropped the half empty cone.

“I- I love you too, kid.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


As she flopped on her bed with a tired  _ oof _ , she wondered just what the hell she had been so afraid of.

She still felt electrified, even after having walked and talked with Sojiro for a few hours, talking, making jokes, having the father daughter bonding moment she had never even dreamed to have. It was.. 

It made her want to cry once more.

She unlocked her phone, quickly searching for Ann’s contact.

**22:30**

**[Alibaba]:** yo

**[Alibaba]:** futaba tells sojiro she v gay, *not clickbait 100% gone *well* gone amazing

**[Alibaba]:** he told me he wants to take me down the aisle when marriage becomes legal

**[Alibaba]:** full on supportive father figure

**[Alibaba]:** it was awesome

**[Alibaba]:** may have cried a lil

**[Alibaba]:** dude tf did i do to get a dad like that lmao like

**[Alibaba]:** i love that fucker

**[LesbiAnn]:** FUTABA!!!!!!!!!!

**[LesbiAnn]:** OMG!!!!! THAT’S AMAZING!!!!!!!!

**[LesbiAnn]:** OMG CAN I CALL YOU???????

Her ear was blown out by Ann’s loud screech. “ **FUTABA!** ”

“ME!” She shouted back, laughing loudly.

“ **Holy shit, Futaba!** ” 

“Holy shit, Ann!” God, her face hurt from grinning so much.

“ **How does it feel? I’m so proud of you! I really am! I, I. you know what- I was gonna call Shiho in a bit, do you wanna join in? You can tell us all the details?** ”

“Sure, dude! Sure! Man. It was. It was amazing. Okay, call Shiho before I start venting it all out, except this is a happy vent, and holy shit I feel like I leveled up to like, my ultimate form.”

“ **Ultimate form?** ”

“Yeah, I’m like. The final boss of the Pansexuals. The one with the supportive father figure. A rarity.”

She snorted. “Yeah, true. Okay, final boss of the pansexuals! Gimme two seconds and I’ll connect you to the call! I’ll hang up now, see you in a few seconds!”

While Ann set up the group video call, she scrolled down to look at Akira’s contact.

  
  
  


No new messages.

  
  
  


Huh.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


She wondered just how good of a time Akira was having, that he had completely forgotten to text her at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up!  
> We're going back to Sumaru City, for a whole chapter dedicated to them!  
> And a few more surprises.


	14. chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter dedicated to Sumaru City.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If my chapters had names, this one would be called scumfuck flower boy.

“Do you have any regrets?”

“None that I can think of. I can, however, talk about loss.” His face twitched, trying to hide the shadow of a smile. 

“You certainly provoked a lot of loss, to many families. Why on Earth did you hurt those people? What drove you to that?”

He tilted his head slightly, this time full on smiling. “Are you recording this?”

“I am.”

“Then I won’t comment on it.”

“But-”

“I’ll only answer what I’m comfortable with, nothing more.”

“Well, you said you were willing to talk about loss.” She looked around at the particularly clean prison, thinking of the gentler treatment from the staff, a stark contrast with the brutal abuse her colleagues had seen when interviewing other prisoners with lower offenses. 

Younger, milder prisoners choked out of their breath for even daring to look weird at one of the prison guards.

Starved prostitutes and cold drug dealers.

Kids beat the shit out of for having stolen something to eat.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A deranged, violent murderer stared at her inside a particularly cushioned cell, relaxed.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A rarity.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“I did. I lost someone very important to me, a lifetime ago.” He leaned back on his chair, running a hand through short white locks. “He.. he was my everything.”

She raised an eyebrow at _that_.

“And despite this loss, you still murdered.”

“Yes.”

“And provoked that loss to others.”

“I don’t think you understand,” He began, chuckling. “The kind of man I lost. I even feel a little strange, calling him a man. He was.. more than that. Way more.”

“Could you elaborate on that?” The woman scribbled neatly on her notepad, despite the audio recording still going on, only audio, as the murderer refused to show his face at all.

She understood why, honestly, the man wasn’t exactly.. _camera friendly_. 

  
  


Especially after the events that had transpired many years ago.

  
  
  


“How would you describe the being that makes you want to get out of bed and go back to it at night? The being that not only understands you completely, but cherishes what you are, flaws and all?”

“It sounds like you’re talking about a god.”

“You.. could say that. Call me when your gods can actually speak back to you, though.” He seemed to visibly relax when talking about this.. being? Man? There was a softer smile on his face, as if talking about a loved one. 

“I’ve had years to think. And he’s still there, in my mind. 

Beautiful. Even as a teenager. 

  
  
  


**Violent.**

  
  


Always violent. 

  
  


Absolutely precious to me. 

  
  


Even if the others didn’t understand him very well, he still stood up tall, with resolve to make the world better.”

  
  
  


“...Was this man a fellow criminal?”

  
  


Something shifted in the room, and she immediately regretted her last question. 

  
  


“ **Never.** Call him that.” His sharp eyes turned back to hers, a flare of anger coursing through them. “He did what he had to do to purge the world, that’s all. Dirty work I tried to carry most of the burden of, but failed. An angel in this disgustingly filthy world.” 

He closed his eyes, as if reminiscing a good family moment. He took a deep breath through his nose.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The silence that coursed between them felt electric.

  
  
  
  


“He had these eyes, you know. 

Smart, they could see right through you even if he was agreeing with you verbally. 

A darling, really, the few times he showed his face. 

Truly worthy of his title.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


She remained silent, for him to go on.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


There was static around them both.

  
  
  
  
  


“Now that I think about it, I do have a regret.”

  
  
  
  


“..And what is that?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“My only regret is to _not have done my work well enough_.”

  
  
  


She raised her eyebrows. 

His eyes opened again, still as sharp.

“My failure to him, it was unacceptable. And I got punished for it. Severely, even if he truly didn’t realise it, for my insolence.”

Now _that_ was a story. A deranged, disgusting, very well selling story if she spinned it around enough.

  
  


“Do we have a name to attach to that?” 

  
  


“I’m not going to let you shit all over his memory for a fucking magazine article.” Putting his chin over his hands, his smile faded completely. “You’re not worthy of that information.”

  
  


“Could I become worthy?”

  
  


“If you’re willing to die twice, sure.” He shrugged. “Any more questions?”

“...None. Thank you for your time.” 

She stopped the recording, eyebrows furrowed, packing her things up. She was about to thank him once more and leave, when she noticed the way he stared at her, and she couldn’t help the paralyzing shiver up her spine.

  
  
  


Darkness, through stoic eyes and burn marks.

  
  


Insanity swimming under a thin surface of composure built from years of treatment and restraint, about to burst, or perhaps already leaking. 

  
  


“If you publish this, I’d recommend not using your actual name.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Excuse me?”

  
  


“If you do, then I’d recommend you get yourself a kevlar suit.”

“Are you _threatening_ me?”

  
  
  
  
  


He shrugged, smile growing just a tad too deranged. “It was a suggestion.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


As the last remaining students exited the hall, Goro couldn’t help the subtle spike of dread creeping up his spine. 

The atmosphere kept tightening up between them, a bubble that seemed to burst any second now.

  
  


Kashihara-sensei didn’t seem particularly affected, perfectly manicured nails tapping the surface of his desk rhythmically, following along a song in his head. His sharp eyes kept staring at him, only prying off for a second to say his goodbyes to the last person that had remained in the hall, a tall woman dressed in all black, who had taken a little more time than expected locating a pen that had fallen down at some point in the class. 

She stood there for a second, dark brown eyes nervously flickering in between the two men, face mostly hidden by her long dark hair. She glanced at Goro especially, mouthing the words ‘ _good luck_ ’, before simply bowing at the two men and leaving. 

  
  


Once she had left, the hall was completely silent for a few seconds, except for the sound of tapping nails.

  
  


_Was.._

_Was the fucker tapping along to ‘another one bites the dust’._

His nails kept tapping, and Goro didn’t know whether to laugh at the song choice, if he was right, or to try and kill him then and there before he was killed first. 

And if he was being dramatic about the whole murdering part, well, maybe prettyman professor should’ve chosen another song that wasn’t fucking _another one bites the dust_ . He seemed to have outwardly reacted somehow, because the man simply gave him a little secretive ( _infuriatingly pretty_ ) smile coated in cold hostility, as if both were in the know of the little joke.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Goro’s scar itched, horribly.

Kashihara-sensei’s red eyes had specs of amber in them. 

His gloves felt oddly constricting.

The weight of his gun on his waist was unnervingly noticeable.

  
  
  
  


The tapping stopped.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A ray of sunlight filtered through the window, highlighting the hidden blue in Kashihara-sensei’s jet black hair, and the subtle structure even behind his softer features, his whole face gaining a strange, otherworldly quality.

It was as if he was talking to a living idol that wouldn’t be out of place in a little hidden shrine.

( _Goro wondered if he was even capable of crying._ )

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Silence, deafening, coursed through them, only the sound of nearby student movement reminding him that they were both in reality. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


( _Mementos, after all, was a lot more quiet._ )

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Once the last person had disappeared from hearing distance, Kashihara-sensei spoke.

“First of all, I would like to congratulate you on getting a near perfect score on an assignment for a class you’re not even signed up to. A feat, really. But we’re not here to talk about that, are we?” He gave Goro a knowing look, as he put his head in between his hands in a fluent, poised motion. 

“And before you say anything, I’m going to give you two options. Either you sit down, and we talk about this here,”

Goro was still processing the first part of his statement.

_How-_

_The urge to put a bullet through his skull reared its ugly head, but he felt oddly proud of his achievement._

_He’d actually struggled doing that assignment._

  
  
  
  
  


“Or.. tell me, Amamiya-san, do you like coffee?” There was the glint of _something_ in the man’s eyes, an unnerving _danger_ that activated Goro’s inherently human fight or flight reflex, the urge to grab his gun and defend himself fro- 

_From what, a random university professor?_

_A fellow persona user?_

_An unarmed man that had absolutely nothing to do with Shido that he knew of?_

  
  
  
  
  


At least, it seemed Goro had been right in placing this man into the _shady as fuck_ category.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He followed the man without even realising what he had been doing until they were exiting campus grounds, and Goro was being taken to a secondary location, which was, even for a murderer, never a good thing.

He had simply followed the elegant figure, mesmerized by how fluently he seemed to pace every single one of his movements, carrying his black bag with precise ease, combined with the rest of the dark jewel tones in his ensemble.

“Excuse me, Kashihara-sensei, where.. where exactly are we going?”

He turned back to look at Goro, giving him a subtle shrug. “Somewhere we can talk without being recorded.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


And _that was_ even shadier. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Which is why Goro found himself absolutely flabbergasted when he sat down in a normal as fuck cafe, instead of being taken to an alleyway and having his blood sucked off, or something. They were surrounded by people around them, of all ages and sizes, having their own meals and -at times loud- discussions, which seemed to contradict the whole point of not being listened to, but at the same time was an excellent location to not get murdered in, and Goro had to at least congratulate the man in taking basic security measurements.

They ordered when a waitress came, a young happy go lucky thing, who seemed a little too happy in contrast to the oppressive atmosphere surrounding the table, before bouncing off and leaving the both of them to each other for the time being.

“So. I would like to know what exactly you are doing in my class, Amamiya-san, since we both know it’s not exactly to learn.”

_Straight for the kill._

“Well, I fail to see why I couldn’t simply be interested in learning, Kashihara-sensei.”

“And I fail to see why you wouldn’t enroll normally.”

“I fail to see why that’s relevant to you.”

Both smiled at each other, eyes narrowing slightly as their respective cups were laid on the table. 

“You seem to count on people not asking questions, Amamiya- _kun_. But as a teacher, I can’t help being worried. Have you perhaps lost your paperwork? There doesn’t seem to be a single trace of your presence in the school’s database outside of barely there entrance information. Not even an ID.” He took a sip from his cup, not once breaking eye contact with him, the movements, even then, surprisingly fluid. 

_Oh?_

“Let me cut you there, Kashihara- _san_ . I don’t really see why these questions couldn’t simply be asked in a classroom setting instead of another location, considering it could be a scandal for your reputation being seen _taking a young,_ **_male_ ** _student out for coffee._ ”

He had to suppress the little smirk threatening to take over his features, instead using the sugary sludge that slowly accumulated in his throat to mold it into an innocent smile.

The other raised a poised eyebrow, hiding most of his lower face behind the coffee cup. “I assure you, my reputation can take it.”

_It could, couldn’t it._

“You seem very esteemed by your peers and students, Kashihara-san. I have yet to hear a single.. _interesting_ thing about you.”

“Are you calling me boring, Amamiya-kun?”

“I’m simply admiring the most _respectable_ life I’ve ever seen, that’s all.”

  
  


Kashihara-san looked almost impressed.

  
  


“Flattery will get you everywhere, won’t it.”

“Is it flattery, really, if all I’m saying is the truth?”

  
  
  


The cup of coffee in his hands paled in comparison to Akira’s coffee, but then again, he had yet to find an actual good one since the last time he went to Leblanc.

  
  
  


“You have yet to answer my question.”

“You have yet to make me understand why you’re asking.”

Kashihara’s hands twitched, and for a moment, Goro felt victorious. The man was obviously getting nervous, which meant he could go in the offensive any time soon. After all, he also had a few _questions_ he would like answered.

“I’m worried for you, as I said before.”

“I’m flattered, Kashihara-san. You certainly do seem like an _incredibly_ good person. Not even a speeding ticket in thirty seven years? A feat, really.” He couldn’t help the venom lacing his wording, nor the way his fingers itched to do something **bold.**

He tensed up slightly. “Have you been looking me up, Amamiya-kun? I’m sorry if it was a disappointment, I guess **I just know how to do things a little better**.” He offered a little smile laced with venom of his own.

  
  


It felt as if the man had dug a particularly sharp metal rod through his whole body in the form of a personal offense.

  
  
  
  


His own smile grew wider, and if he was clutching the edge of the table hard enough to make a slight dent on it, no, no he wasn’t.

  
  
  
  


“At least I don’t have to rely on others to clean my messes.”

“Is there a mess you’re trying to clean, Amamiya-kun?”

“Well, I don’t know if I should really answer questions here, Kashihara-san, this conduct could easily be the cause of a report, and unless you have _friends,_ this wouldn’t look very good in that clean report of yours.”

  
  
  


He couldn’t help the shit eating grin that appeared on his features, a face resembling the detective prince from a time he had thought he won.

_Victory._

_(When had it been the last time he felt that expression tugging his features? A long, long time ago, back when cameras were still focused on capturing him and talk hosts remembered his name. Before he had gotten humiliated for the first time by the thieves, which would unleash a seemingly endless chain of humiliation._

_It felt good to feel powerful once more, a reminder that a mere middle aged man couldn't compete against him.)_

  
  


“So, unless you want a stain on that beautiful record of yours, I’d suggest you started answering **my** questions.”

  
  


For a moment, Kashihara was quiet. He looked surprised, eyes wide, mouth open slightly, elegant even at the face of such a strong accusation.

  
  
  
  


“How could you accuse me of something like that? You- you have absolutely no proof of anything like that.” His fingers began tapping the table, a sort of nervous tick, Goro realised.

His eyes narrowed, deciding to taste a little better a victory he hadn’t had in so long, despite it being tampered with the irritating noise of bone hitting a hard surface. He leaned forward, letting himself strip off some of the pleasant boy facade he had slipped on at the beginning of their discussion, and instead nestling himself in the prideful feeling blooming inside his chest, a resemblance of a time when his power had felt real and his revenge possible.

“Records that don’t match, names crossed out, and a whole file with absolutely nothing in the police database. Connections with a lot of strange and disjointed names, including personalities, both local and international, that seem completely out of place for a common math teacher. Involvement in a murder case that was suspiciously, and suddenly, closed. Suspicious data, I believe. Something that perhaps should be looked into a little more, and if a report to the university for inappropriate advances on a male student is a catalyst for that, it’s not exactly my fault, is it?”

  
  


The man said nothing for a few moments, outside of the insistent, _distracting_ tapping.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Goro couldn’t help his grin stretching wider at the easy victory, despite the itching irritation in his chest, a feeling that made him want to slice the man’s hand off.

  
  
  
  
  


“But how.. how..”

  
  
  


“I have experience finding stuff out, that’s all. Even more silencing people. So, if you won’t answer me the good way, I don’t mind causing a scandal. And please, could you cease with the tapping? It’s getting on my _fucking nerves._ ”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Jun conceded, looking a lot more calm than before, washing off the shock as easily as if he had been wearing a mask, having fully ceased any tapping, elegantly tucking the offending hand in his jacket’s pocket.

“I wasn’t aware dead men could talk.” He said softly, a lot more quiet than before, as he pulled out his phone from the front pocket of his bag. Even the pitch of his voice was slightly different, having a lower, softer cadence to it. 

  
  


_What-_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Oh no._

  
  
  
  
  


The man turned the phone towards Goro, barely away from his reach.

A picture of his own face greeted him, contrasted side by side with the one of the detective prince, a perfect resemblance of each other, clear enough that even an idiot could easily see it, despite the dyed hair and different hairstyle. 

Even worse, the idiot that Goro was turning out to be had forgotten to put on his glasses, red eyes on full display.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Kashihara-san gave him a relaxed smile, as he deliberately tapped the table, before stopping and leaning his face against his free hand, and Goro couldn’t help the way his mouth opened in horror. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**_He was a fucking idiot._ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Goro suddenly understood very, _very_ well why they were in a public space. 

  
  
  
  


And why the tapping had been a thing, and not exactly as a nervous tick.

  
  
  
  


As he glanced around frantically, he managed to spot a head of brown hair on the other side of the cafe, in a table that gave them a perfect view of the one he had been coerced to sit on by Kashihara.

  
  
  
  


He was surrounded, so he couldn’t pull out a weapon.

  
  
  
  
  


He had been seen and documented, the information on at least two phones if not more, and by the time he snatched them both, the picture could’ve been sent straight to the men that were looking for him.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He had been idiotic enough to fall for such a simple trick.

  
  
  
  


In plain daylight.

  
  
  


Without the excuse of being worn out by fighting in the Metaverse, or being near his own death, or anything.

  
  
  


_He wondered if Shido had found him out that easily too._

  
  
  


If him, being a kid, just didn’t see the plain obvious.

  
  


He felt..

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_So fucking small._

  
  
  


_He was a detective, for fuck’s sake!_

  
  
  


_(Had been.)_

  
  


The older man took a sip from his cup, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’m not looking for any trouble, Akechi-kun. All I want you is to go right back where you came from. That’s it. I’m sorry I had to do this to you, but if it’s the safety of my loved ones that’s threatened, I’ll do anything.”

A noble reason, really, but the _urge of squeezing the life out of the man in front of him, then putting a bullet between his eyes_ consumed him for a moment, having to grab his hands between each other to stop himself from scratching himself raw. 

He didn’t feel tears, but instead the all consuming urge to grab parts of himself and start yanking off, as the way he had been not only lured into it, but in less than an hour all his efforts to escape had culminated into falling for an obvious _trap_ , felt absolutely **humiliating.**

Kashihara’s face had twisted into one of worry once Goro finally came out of the urge and had enough grip in reality to register what the fuck the man had said to him after throwing him into the ground, stomping on his head, and grinding his metaphorical boot over it. 

“The.. _safety of your loved ones?_ ” He almost _hissed_ , feeling like a cornered deer in the middle of a cutesy cafe in a foreign city, knowing full well how absolutely alone and devoid of any help he was. “ _How in the goddamn fuck am I a threat to you?_ ”

Kashihara-san, while the worry stayed on his face, frowned, head still held high. “You had a direct involvement in the Phantom Thieves case. And, you are a persona user, which I dare you try and deny.”

Even if he wanted, he couldn’t.

“You suddenly disappear off the face of the Earth, after a man who you seemed to be more than familiar with, confessed to having been behind the cases of mental shutdowns that had taken over Japan. A quick investigation in who’s who and who did what, having the basis of a knowledge in persona capabilities, it’s easy to come to conclusions.”

Well. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_It seemed Goro hadn’t been the only one having a field day outside of their little staring contests._

  
  
  
  
  


Jun Kashihara had moved from the category of _shady as fuck_ to the one of _absolute bastard_ , but honestly? Goro could respect the method.

  
  


It had been simple, yet clever. 

  
  
  
  
  


_(He was particularly attracted to people firmly in between the categories of “idiot” and “bastard”, it seemed.)_

  
  
  
  


This would be the second time that thanks to his own stupidity he had gotten caught.

At this point, cutting off his tongue looked more and more appealing.

  
  


“Then, you come and land in my class, the only one led by a persona user in the whole building. It was.. suspicious. I won’t apologise for needing a way to keep you here, and keep you quiet, that wasn’t just resorting to senseless violence. Your mere presence was a threat.”

Well, the cat was completely out of the bag, it seemed. 

He let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes to try and understand how the fuck he was going to handle this situation, as he was quickly realising he was not only outnumbered, but he wouldn’t be surprised if either of them, or both, were armed.

The scar on his back itched even worse, and Goro wanted nothing more than to shove a knife up it, as it wouldn’t let him think clearly.

At least, he had gotten some answers he had been looking for. 

“Well, it seems I’m cornered.” He shrugged, not bothering to hide the bitter bite in his words. “I’m running away from the same people I was all buddy buddy with in the past, and would really appreciate it if you didn’t make said job harder. I had no idea you were a persona user until later on. There.”

  
  
  


Kashihara didn’t look particularly impressed. “I see.”

  
  
  


“Well, now that you have the truth, oh dear teacher, what are you going to do, huh? Report me? Make my life more of a living hell than it already is?” He leaned back into the chair, jaw shut tight, removing any sort of sugary sludge coating his words, instead turning them into pure venom.

“None of that. My only request was, actually, for you to leave me alone, in exchange for no divulged information. This.. I hadn’t been expecting this.” His features looked as stone cold as how Goro felt his to be. Showing the entire process to Goro, he deleted the picture.

“I have a backup, in case I am wrong, just so you know.”

But at the same time, this situation, no matter how horribly mortifying it had been, Goro.. 

could see potential in it. 

  
  


This was his first encounter with a persona user that not only was older than even the fucker of Maruki, but possibly more powerful, and Goro felt the gears moving in his head. It did solve some of the mystery surrounding this man, at least, in the sense that the spotless record wasn’t actually a reality but instead a fabricated one, and they possibly had a lot more in common than he had anticipated. 

“Since your curiosity regarding my intentions towards you, which I may repeat, are _none_ , has been satisfied.. I believe I’d like some answers of my own.”

“Go on.” Kashihara continued drinking as Goro elaborated.

“You aren’t the first persona user I meet that isn’t me.”

“I suspected so.”

“How come the others had never given me a single physical reaction, while you made me recoil from the feeling?”

Kashihara looked even more confused. “None of the phantom thieves had a resonance?”

“How did you know-”

“I didn’t, thank you for confirming it.”

At this point Goro wanted to scream.

“But to answer your question, from my experience with personas, I’ve had some form of these powers since I was a little kid, after all, it’s most likely because the source of our powers is different.”

_Huh._

  
  


“I’m not willing to divulge too much information outside of that, and you may understand why, Akechi-kun. I don’t trust you.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

  
  


Kashihara’s face turned into a soft, appreciative smile, which both shocked Goro slightly and made him feel a slight warmth in his chest, a strange feeling that he couldn’t classify as anything yet, outside of how it most likely felt getting affirmation from an adult that wasn’t based somehow in either pity or malice.

“Good, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“If.. Kashihara-san, if I may ask you one more question.”

“Ask, maybe I’ll answer.”

“How.. How did you recognize me? After all, my personal safety depends on not being found. As for the picture.. I believe in leveling the field. As much dirt you can dig up on me, I can dig double.”

  
  


Kashihara’s smile became even warmer.

“Well, to answer your question, _Amamiya-kun_ , it just so happens that my partner is very good at recognizing faces.”

_Huh._

He suspected there was more to that answer than he let on.

( _He quickly had to squash the flame of hope that this man wasn’t just a fellow in persona powers and that the partner in question was the brunette man that had been also monitoring him at the cafe. The word partner, so utterly neutral, it.. it could mean a lot._ )

  
  
  


“I’m afraid I have to get going, Amamiya-kun. But honestly? It was a pleasure meeting you a little better.” He rose up, smile still on his face. 

Goro followed him outside after Kashihara paid for the both of them.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Oh! And before I forget. Amamiya-kun, do you know anything about the language of flowers?”

“I am aware of its existence, yes, both western and hanakotoba. I’m afraid I don’t know much about it though.”

“Well then, you may have to google this.” He let out an airy little chuckle, as he gently pulled out from his bag a small bouquet of flowers, placing them just as carefully in between Goro’s hands, while Goro _carefully_ avoided looking as shocked as he felt. 

“I wish you a lovely day, Amamiya-kun.” Before Goro could bow back, or say literally anything else than a mumbled, broken goodbye, the man was gone, walking down the street as elegantly as he did in class.

  
  
  
  


He stood there, his eyes zeroed in the flowers in his hands.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The last time someone had shared flowers with him, it had been Maki-san.

Back when he had been a doll without stuffing, a miserable child whose mother had died, when a kind therapist had taken his hand and brought him to the florist, to buy those beautiful blue flowers for his mother’s grave.

  
  


He pulled out his phone and quickly searched up the flowers on his hands, not patient enough to get home and see what the hell they meant.

Mountain ash flowers, white, fluffy and small _(prudence, “I watch over you”)_ , surrounded yellow rudbeckias _(justice, equity)_ , thrift flowers _(sympathy)_ , and pink oleanders _(danger, caution, warning)_ in a cocktail that, while a little odd, together formed a sentence that made Goro both want to throw it violently and at the same time cherish it dearly.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Deep inside himself, he felt.. something, building up. A small thread, one not too different, yet immensely so, from the one he had felt with Akira the moment they had played billiards together._

_The beginning of a bond._

_How.. odd._

* * *

The clicking of her heels was fast and determined, as she made her way through the sea of people that was Sumaru City in rush hour. The weather had announced for that Saturday very warm weather, but it seemed she had underestimated just how utterly _hot_ it would be. 

She was kinda dying. 

Her head was held high, however, despite the heat and the nerves consuming her insides, as she knew she had to get the information there, and _stat_. She wasn’t stopped, luckily, as it seemed others took notice of the rush she was in and let her pass through. 

Not even the huge glass doors could stop her, opening them wide with determination and power walking through them.

She only stopped the moment she crashed against the receptionist's desk, letting out an exhausted sigh, to the amusement of said receptionist.

“Do you need a glass of water?”

“I need- _huff_ \- I need a whole gallon.” Her smile was sheepish, trying to smooth her blonde locks to resemble something a little more put together than how she actually felt.

The receptionist's red lips stretched into a little grin, as she pressed the needed button to alert her boss of the expected arrival.

“Amano-san is already expecting you, but would you like to have something to drink first? I really don’t want you fainting on us.”

She shook her head eagerly, already making her way to the elevator. “Gossip doesn’t wait for anyone, Moriyama-san!”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Well, it wasn’t exactly gossip. But Moriyama didn’t need to know that, did she._

  
  
  
  
  
  


She continued her nervous grooming as she got on the elevator, checking herself on her phone's camera. Even if she knew Maya didn’t really care, _she had seen her at two am crying in her pajamas and downing a bottle of sake after all_ , she wanted to at least keep the appearance that she was somewhat.. _okay._ Was her white blouse well adjusted? How about her light wash jeans? Had her makeup smudged? Was her golden jewelry in place?

She wanted to look as put together as much as her insides weren’t.

  
  


These news were always hard to take in, and even worse to report. She would’ve normally waited for the next meeting, but in these situations? Time was everything.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It was a little funny, how life worked.

  
  
  


If anyone had asked Lisa what she planned for her future almost two decades before, she’d probably first yelled at them for asking, then simply said that she’d only planned to move on with her life, refusing to look at them in the eye.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It took her years to see anything with the word _persona_ in it and not want to puke.

  
  
  


Even more to actually attempt summoning one again. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


She had just arrived in Tokyo when she saw it.

**Blood.**

Everywhere. 

Coating the walls of the station, pooling under her feet, oozing from every crook and cranny, its sweet smell of rot and decay invading her senses. 

She had let out a loud, panicked shriek, at the unmistakable scent of _death_ surrounding everything around her, yet.

Nobody, except for her, looked anywhere _close_ to affected. 

  
  


They all went on with their days, only a few glancing questioningly at her, _how dare she interrupt their wonderful, extremely bloody day_. She lost her way, walking dazedly amongst the way too cheerful crowd, trying to stop the vile that tried to come out of her mouth.

_How.. how couldn’t others see this?_

_How could she?_

_Everywhere she went, it followed._

_Everywhere she escaped to, she was greeted by more decay._

Even when people seemed to finally come to their senses, and had gone on a panicked frenzy, she felt just as unfocused, bumping into people as she tried to make sense of _what exactly_ was going on as it unfolded. The mess, the chaos surrounding her, a cacophony of sound, light, _violence_ that she soon realised, only could be caused by what had ruined her life.

  
  
  
  


Ruined the life of her friends.

Ruined a whole world.

Separated her, over and over, from the people she loved most.

  
  
  
  


Made her live a life in fear, that every time she was hugging Tatsuya she was possibly damning him to suffer once more. It took her hours to finally stop crying and do her makeup for his and Jun’s celebration of their partnership (or the “fake it till you make it” wedding, as Eikichi jokingly, _sadly_ , referred to it. The fact their friends couldn’t get officially married still boiled both his and Lisa’s blood.), as she was scared her presence there could possibly ruin something, _anything_ , and make the world tumble down once more.

  
  
  


**That** **_thing, that 仆街_ ** **, had made her life miserable at every turn.**

  
  


No matter how many countries she went to, no matter how many people she met, no matter how many men she slept with, no matter how many things she bought, how much she drank, how healthy she ate, how many tv shows she participated in, how many songs she sang, how many concerts she went to. 

  
  
  
  


The shadow of what had happened, once she became aware of it, wouldn’t leave her alone.

  
  


And now, that fucking power kept ruining the lives of others, robbed so many futures.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Blood kept pooling under her heeled boots.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


That same night she grabbed her things, cancelled all her plans in Tokyo, and went straight to the city she had avoided for years, with the resolve of _never_ running away again.

  
  
  
  
  


_(The day she had been appointed as part of the Nanjo group, she finally slept peacefully for the first time in more than a decade.)_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Lisa! You made it!” Maya enveloped her in a tight hug, giving her one of those smiles that could make the sun jealous. 

In that dark red suit, Maya looked like she could take over the world. Happy, alert eyes, a straight back, the lines around her mouth sign of a woman that was not only ready to face it all, but would do it with a smile on her face. 

_Big sis._

She looked so at ease in her office, a well deserved space of wide glass windows and minimalistic architecture, made not so minimalistic by not only the regime of plants that Jun had left all over (all meaning some sort of adoration and familial love), but the collage of family pictures in one wall, the ridiculous lucky cat on a corner, the city pop playlist in the background, and the mess that threatened to become a lot worse if it wasn’t for the cleaning staff. 

“Of course I would!” She scoffed, an honest smile breaking in her features, despite her nerves. 

Lisa couldn’t help but let out a satisfied groan at _finally_ having sat down the moment she flopped down on Maya’s comfortable guest chair, a funny brown thing acquired in a flea market for the simple reason that it was hideous, but had then turned _“adorably vintage chic”_ with the power of talking about thrifting too many times in the media. A glass of water was given her way, and she basically inhaled it as Maya sat down on the affectionately called _boss chair,_ carrying her own glass.

“So. I guess this isn’t magazine related. Although, if Muses is getting ready for a comeback..”

“It’s not happening, Maya.” She put the glass down on the desk. “I.. I know you recommended to me the legal team and all? But the girls aren’t on board. I. Can’t really do anything about that.”

“And the solo thing? Like I told you?”

“It’s.. who wants to hear an old hag sing?” She laughed. “I’m waaaay, way past my prime.”

The brunette sighed, opening a laptop different from the one settled on her desk. “You could still try! And if it flops? It was fun for you!”

“可憐. It’s not happening. Not for now at least.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Only the soft voices of a remixed old song filled the air for a moment, alongside the soft noises of her computer turning on.

  
  
  
  
  
  


While not an active fighter anymore, Maya was present enough in the group to be the first face many requests saw once they had gotten through Lisa and through the group’s informants. 

Nanjo himself did a lot for the group, but it had proved to be impossible to be in the sheer amount of places he was required to be at the same time, so that system had been created, to give enough care and attention that each case, fight and request deserved.

  
  


“Okay! Here we go! You told me this was an emergency?”

  
  


_She took a deep breath._

“I wasn’t sure to call you about this or something? But! Our friends at Kirijo are kinda freaking out.”

Maya immediately turned off the music, looking worriedly at her. “Go on..?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The background silence without the radio felt unnerving.

  
  
  


“Sooo, and I really don’t know how to put this so you don’t freak out,”

  
  


Maya’s smile tightened slightly.

  
  


“Someone, a persona user was reported missing. Most likely taken because of his powers.” Oh wow, the phrase _reported missing_ made things sound even more serious.

Maya almost dropped her glass, but instead took a deep breath, her smile in place. “Okay. Freaking out does nothing. We’re going to stay positive, won’t we?” It felt as if she was saying it more to herself than to Lisa, but she nodded along anyways. 

“When was this reported?”

“Last night, I got a call from Yamagishi-san. They’re asking for our help to cover the largest area possible.”

“Okay.” She began quickly typing on her laptop, nodding at Lisa to go on. 

“He’s reported as Akira Kurusu, seventeen years old, and he was last seen in Yasoinaba. Uh, Kirijo probably has the full report. But it seems we’re dealing with.. y’know.” Her hands completed her sentence for her. “Last seen traveling in a car, so. Large distances are an option.”

At that point, Maya couldn’t keep her smile, instead turning into a worried expression, putting her hand against her forehead as she continued typing with her other hand. “This is.. okay, I’ll ask Kei-kun to redirect funds to finding him. And I’ll call Katsu to tell him about this. We should have a team by this afternoon.”

She looked up from the screen towards Lisa, with eyes that betrayed just how much _loss_ she had faced, how little loss she was going to tolerate moving forward. 

“We’re going to find this kid.”

“And beat the shit out of those that dared touch him?”

Maya couldn’t help the small laugh leaving her lips. “Of course!”

“開心囉.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next! We go back to Inaba.  
> Oh! Btw!! I must clear up that unlike spanish, I don't speak cantonese! So if any characters are wrong or weird, please tell me! I tried to use phrases Lisa canonically uses, but!!!!
> 
> Feedback is always welcome, and as always!!!! thank you so much for reading!!!!


	15. chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana gets knocked out, Inaba cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, can finals fuck up an upload schedule! I've been busy with so much math, seeing any more numbers will hurt my eyes!  
> How are you all doing?  
> I bring you all a fresh new chapter!!!!!! Lots of explanations and exposition, but action will come soon!!! And oh boy, am I excited for that!!!!
> 
> I hope everyone has a wonderful sunday!!!!!  
> As always, feedback and criticism are welcome!!!!!!!

**06:45**

**\--Investigation Team--**

**(Chad Narukami; Partner <3, Black belt, *Fans self*; Teddie; Tiny detective; The X factor; Crochet master)**

**[Tiny detective]:** good morning.

**[Tiny detective]:** there’s no need for anyone’s immediate reply to this message.

**[Tiny detective]:** but i looked into the kid’s file, to see what is going on.

**[Tiny detective]:** my stance with the force, as you all may know, isn’t in its best state, but i managed to get access to the database anyways. 

**[Tiny detective]:** his full name is akira kurusu, highschool senior, moved to tokyo for a year for probation. charges for assault by masayoshi shido. 

**[Tiny detective]:** there are many leads that point to him being a phantom thief. also some signs of neglect, from what i've seen. there’s a report of him being found wandering on the streets back in october of 2009, found by a young man, and taken to the station at two am. his parents appeared in the morning, at seven am, according to the written record of the conversation, “extremely worried and distraught”.

**[Tiny detective]:** i looked into his parents as well. no charges against them. the only register of them is akira’s disappearance in 2009, and two speeding tickets. 

**[Tiny detective]:** if necessary, i can look further into them. i tried to avoid unnecessary detail, as i respect his privacy as much as possible, but knowing he’s a persona user, he’s in immediate danger, and it’s good to have some background information.

**08:32**

**[*Fans self*]:** Good morning Naoto, everyone.

**[*Fans self*]:** While I am not completely comfortable with digging around through Akira’s life like this as well, I appreciate the information.

**[*Fans self*]:** As for the Kurusu surname, I may be able to expand slightly. My family and I have had a few unsavory confrontations in the past with them. Nothing to be alarmed of, but a few altercations here and there, mostly related to the implications of my sole existence being unhygienic. Personally, neither Chie or myself were bothered, but I would uh,  **@Black belt** , you expressed the sentiment perfectly a while ago?

**[Black belt]:** hey everyone!!!! I told princess that we could put a pin on it!!! that akira may be going through some shit!!!! yu you told us he looked lonely!!!!

**[Chad Narukami]:** Yeah, that’s because he is.

* * *

Brushing his fur at lunch had been an excellent idea, because when Morgana caught sight of himself in Akira’s phone screen, he found himself puffing out his chest in pride. 

He looked quite impressive, if he said it so himself. 

Sure, Morgana could seem like a dumb cat to the people they were going to see, but he wanted to be a handsome dumb cat, damnit.

  
  
  


They had an interesting day ahead of them.

Their morning trip, despite the rain and the threat of it uncomfortably getting all over his fur, was pretty soothing. As Akira carried him through the streets, he took his time to think over what had been happening lately.

  
  


He.. he was worried for Akira. 

He didn’t tell him so, but he could easily see the spiral his best friend was getting into, from the nights where he could feel the slight shivering twitch of his muscles, passing by the ever increasing defense mechanisms that kept popping up, to lying to Makoto and telling her he was okay.

  
  
  
  


**He wasn’t okay.**

But Morgana wasn’t exactly sure what to do. 

There was a reason he had so adamantly said he wasn’t a cat at first, after all. It was in part due to the fear that came with being a cat in situations like these.

  
  
  


Unlike the whispers enveloping Akira and him of a fog he had yet to know too much about, his worries didn’t dissipate. He could notice that the Phantom Thieves, as well, were slowly distancing from each other, as that silly little art challenge had been the first  _ real  _ interaction he had seen from the group since a while. Sure, small subsections of the group remained, but. When was the last time Akira had a whole conversation with Haru? What about her boyfriend Ryuji? They had a few phone calls at first, but. Morgana  _ knew. _

  
  


He knew things weren’t okay.

As Akira subtly put the phone’s screen on his direction so he could see the final art piece, he did his best to smile, and act as if that picture still somewhat resembled reality.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


To think that just a few months before he had told them he had wanted to stay with the group forever.

Now, he would’ve looked at that old Morgana and asked, 

  
  


**“Which group?”**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Even from inside the bag he was in, the noise felt a little overwhelming once they got to the restaurant Akira would meet his new friends at. There was  _ a lot  _ of it, conversations from many walks in life, yet all having that common theme of the place they had grown up in. They were all locals Morgana had meant, the intonation and meaning behind their words the same, a shared code that he, and even Akira after having left for a mere year, couldn’t completely comprehend. 

_ Huh. _

_ Akira sounded completely different to them. _

The year with the Phantom Thieves had changed him in ways that even a whole life in this hellhole paled against. It made him both stronger and more fragile, cracks in a surface Morgana could only see now that Inaba’s hateful spotlight was right on his face. 

As Akira moved, he heard more and more of that noisy crowd.

And sure, the odd noises of people could be horrible, but for  _ that smell of delicious meat _ ?

Eh, Morgana could allow it.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He finally saw anything that wasn’t the inside of Akira’s bag or not very flattering shots of the environment a while later, when Akira had been assured nothing would happen to him if he peeked out, so he made his grand appearance, which. Basically consisted of him peeking his head out and meowing at the two women that were with Akira. 

Now that he was able to see the place better, it wasn’t half bad, the warm palette giving everything a feeling of comfort, which may have been the explanation as to why so many people congregated there to have their meals and all.

Chie’s hand was comforting against his fur, her smell entering his senses from her closeness, something that felt both humane and at the same time.. not so much.

A smell that Morgana could only explain by using allegories to things that couldn’t be smelled or tasted, like neon lights.

She smelled like neon lights, like a glow that emanated from her and she could twist at will, a power that buzzed under her veins, a confidence born out of the knowledge she could not only defend herself but those around her, masterfully contained into the harmless image of a normal human. 

The mark of an active persona user, the one who had activated their capacity to mingle amongst the supernatural and the impossible, something that was quite hard to describe to Akira or the other Phantom Thieves, but something Morgana could discern as easily as it was to breathe.

Being called cute, too, wasn’t half bad. He could still charm the ladies through feline cuteness, after all. 

Knowing his agreement with Akira, he didn’t talk, instead choosing to be the ears Akira lacked, knowing the brunet sometimes would miss things thanks to being busy producing his own responses. All Morgana had to do was meow and act naturally, which gave him enough thinking room to  _ search. _

Search for proof of what he already knew, that they were dealing with a bunch of experienced persona users, and try to discern why exactly their behavior smelled, and felt, so potent. Why hadn’t they crossed each other during their time in Mementos, if they were active?

Why hadn’t they helped?

Or why hadn’t the Phantom Thieves fought them?

Had Mementos even been accessible to them?

How long had they been persona users?

Could they even summon their personas anymore?

Or had their power been so great the vestiges of it had taken that form?

It made Morgana feel a little small, not having all the answers, as being made so little ago blindsided him to a lot of..  _ history _ he hadn’t been told about by the residents of The Room. 

Or maybe he had, and he had simply forgotten.

Manifestations of hope could sometimes be fickle, and while Morgana had gotten a real form, his time as a being of cognition had been a time where not many memories of his conception were kept, many of them blocked by the god they’d later defeat, others..

Simply vanishing.

All he truly remembered from the Velvet Room?

His conception.

Lavenza.

Igor. 

His mission, to dispel an evil being from the spiritual world.

The voice of someone singing, far away, far enough to not be reached. The playing of a piano that would remain safe, because he knew not even the strongest evils could reach  _ him _ and those completely under his wing, the result of an exchange that for some reason, Morgana remembered to be  _ dangerous _ .

Because  _ he  _ was evil, and  _ he  _ was good. 

He wasn’t something to be chained down by simple terms.

He simply was, in control, forever in it, the other half of chaos, its former lover, law that no matter how much it wavered, would always remain. 

A god that could be punched, but a bullet would never graze his skin.

The mirror, graceful and unhelpful, an amused watcher forever in a game with forces Morgana would never be able to comprehend.

  
  


Whenever..

Whenever Morgana truly tried to reach those memories and  _ make sense  _ of those sentences that came to mind, something always stopped him. A void, a gap in his knowledge, perhaps purposeful.

So, if his memories and his knowledge had no use, he would have to find the answers another way.

And that way, was through  _ listening _ . 

  
  
  
  


He watched proudly as Akira told his first truth about his mental health in a while, and attempted not to laugh on his face when he got called a little kid, watched as Yu walked in with his partner, and all seemed okay, 

  
  
  


Until he saw that **_thing._**

  
  
  
  


He had known something to be horribly wrong the moment he saw it walk in.

A dark shadow, a danger inherent to its own existence, the unmistakable scent of Metaverse shadows all over it. 

  
  
  


A thing to be crushed and eliminated before it caused harm.

An abomination.

A thing to be immediately wary of and hostile towards.

  
  


And yet..

It clung to Yosuke cheerfully, and Yosuke himself didn’t seem bothered at all, or rather, he seemed as bothered as someone could be when their younger sibling wouldn’t stop being clingy. 

_ If they were persona users like Akira and himself had debated, wouldn’t they be more shaken by the dark cloud following them? _

It took Morgana a few minutes to actually be able to see any sort of tangible shape under the thick black and red blanket, some semblance of a mockup of a human being, blonde hair and white skin, and an attitude that was a lot more cheerful than expected accompanying it. 

It called itself  _ Teddie _ , but Morgana had difficulty seeing anything other than the inherent wrongness of seeing a piece of the Metaverse in reality, which is why he did his best to scramble away when it got close enough to grasp Akira. 

He knew he couldn’t talk, or else he might be heard and discovered, but he really,  _ really _ had wanted to warn Akira at that moment. 

  
  
  


He was going to, once they got home.

  
  


But for the moment he was going to act normal, as normal as possible, so as not to harm Akira’s afternoon. 

He needed this, a group of people he could laugh with, a tangible presence to hug and tell his problems to, and while Morgana tried very hard to be there as much as possible, his form didn’t allow him to do that much for him. 

  
  
  


He couldn’t defend him when he got attacked.

He couldn’t hold him when he cried.

He couldn’t yell at his parents that they were absolute  _ fucking scum _ when they treated Akira like he was barely worth anything.

He had to stay hidden, in case said fucking scum found him and threw him out, rendering Akira completely alone.

  
  


So now that he had a fellow human company that actually wanted him around?

His worries could wait.

And besides, if he listened along for long enough, perhaps he could piece together on his own  _ why  _ exactly was a Metaverse shadow hanging out with a bunch of -suspected- persona users.

  
  


After all, who was he to judge? He wasn’t a human being either, he was made in the Velvet Room, and had remained in the human world. Maybe this shadow had gone through a situation similar to his own. But that didn’t explain why exactly its presence still felt so wrong, or why the danger in it felt so acute.

Why all his senses wanted to call it an abomination.

  
  
  


When Akira froze up after being touched by it, he knew he had felt it too.

  
  


So at least, Morgana wouldn’t have to give him too many explanations as to why he was suspicious of it, and increasingly of the whole group.

  
  
  
  


And to worsen his suspicions, he heard something  _ horribly implicating _ . 

Yu’s partner (Yosuke was it?), grabbing the shadow, and berating it in a corner, away from a still frozen Akira, so as to not let him hear, but not far enough for  _ Morgana  _ to not hear them. Ignoring Yu’s louder tone as much as he could, he tried to listen in to  _ what exactly  _ they were saying. 

“What are you doing? Did Shirakawa  _ melt your brain _ or something? You don’t go- ugh, I know you didn’t mean it, don’t look at me like that- but you don’t go around grabbing people after being tested-” Yosuke’s hand gestures were wide and panicked, as if what the shadow had done was a horrible mistake, instead of simply not respecting personal space.

“But we mostly hung out! They just did some COMP compatibility tests, that’s all!”

“You. You did  **what.** You didn’t tell me that!” Yosuke’s panicked face deepened, his frown settling even lower on his face.

“It escaped my mind! I’m sorry!” Morgana still couldn’t discern the shadow’s face in between the absolute mess that was his presence, but he  _ could _ hear the repentant tone on its shrill voice. 

“It proves my point even more, you don’t go around grabbing people after being tested, and especially not after  _ that _ , Teddie, holy shit, do you want to give Akira a heart attack? Did you even rest after hanging out with them? Took a shower,  _ at least _ ?”

_ What exactly was a COMP, again? _

His eyes narrowed. 

  
  


Oh, so the shadow hung around them for  _ testing purposes _ . 

  
  


That-

  
  


That brought even more questions, but solved others, mostly related to what the hell was a shadow doing with a group of persona users.

“But it shouldn’t affect him? Hasn’t he been around things like me before?”

_ Yes, shadow. Killing them, never hugging them, especially in real life. _

“Teddie, he’s not even- Ugh, we’ll talk about this later, okay? When we get back.” Talk about  _ what exactly,  _ Yosuke?

He got an answer from the shadow, but Yu’s insistent movement in front of Akira didn’t let Morgana keep his concentration, no matter how much he tried to move, the body in front of him wouldn’t let him see the exchange behind it. 

Yu only moved when Yosuke stepped forward, exchanging a worried glance between each other, a conspirative air in it, something that may have escaped Akira in his stupor, but  _ not him. _

Chie and Yukiko looked at each other, then at Yu and Yosuke, Chie glaring at the both of them, then at the shadow, who had moved away from Akira, and was standing incredibly awkwardly.

  
  


Something was going on, tension rising amongst the adults, who kept glaring at each other, then at the shadow.

“Nevermind, guys, I’m fine.” Akira broke through the tension, which earned him a couple of questioning looks. “Really! I was just startled by Teddie-san, that’s all.”

“Are you sure? Do you want us to ask for a glass of water?” Asked Yukiko, her face looking the guiltiest of them all, despite not being the one that had brought the shadow to the restaurant. 

“No! No. Seriously. I’m alright.” Sweet, incredibly dense Akira said, and Morgana in that moment had the serious urge to grab him and say, loudly,  _ ask more questions, goddamnit, I’m the one playing the role of the dumb pet, not you! _

But he didn’t. Not even a glare sent his way.

He knew why Akira wasn’t asking questions, as being lonely could make people say and do stupid things, and Morgana wasn’t going to berate him for it when already half the city berated him for any little thing he did.

He would have a talk with him when they got home, though.

  
  
  
  


Once they had settled down, he took a moment to hide back into the bag and process the information he had heard. Akira had sat himself and him in between Yu and Yukiko, luckily, so the shadow’s presence wasn’t that heavy on him. However, he needed moments here and there of darkness to stop himself from getting overwhelmed by the other’s presence and say something stupid. Say anything, really.

He listened anyways, but it was all mostly vapid conversation, only peeking his head back up when he heard new voices. Two newcomers had sat with the group, one smelling like a persona user, the other not, so he suspected the partner of the persona user to be a stranger to the rest. And he wasn’t that wrong as their relationship, the one in between the couple and the rest of the group, in Morgana’s opinion, looked slightly strained. 

The both of them with the rest of the group looked like they barely had made up after a long fight.

Morgana wondered what had happened there.

Yu noticed him quite quickly after raising his head up, so, having been spotted, he did his best to acknowledge them in the way a normal cat would: through meowing. If he looked particularly intelligent, no he didn’t.

  
  
  
  


The table took turns petting him. 

When he was petted by the shadow, he tried not to cringe too hard, the sensation being so horrible it made all his hair stand up and puff uncomfortably, which made it stop for a few moments, and ask with a worried and cutesy -yet ear gratingly loud- voice if “The kitty was okay”.

No, the kitty wasn’t okay, fucking shadow.

But he could stand this for a few more hours, if only to see just a little more of Akira’s beautiful, sunny smile. 

  
  
  
  


He had missed that smile  _ so much _ .

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Morgana was absolutely relieved when the next pair of hands on him were Rise’s (who was apparently an idol, and he believed them, because  _ damn _ , wasn’t she absolutely gorgeous.), her ministrations softer and more careful, with the addition of a lack of danger, and humanity, instead of the strange scents of these particular persona users, or the mindfuckery that was being pet by a shadow of all things. He wondered how exactly this group had met her, since she didn’t seem to be anything supernatural, instead being (or at least feeling like) a normal woman. But then again, Akira himself had more than one friendship Morgana wasn’t sure how the fuck had happened, despite having been there when it did. 

That politician guy, for example. 

Morgana wondered how that guy was taking the news around Shido’s party and how quickly it was recovering. Most of the time he didn’t want to worry Akira with his own worries, after all he already had too much on his plate, but it was becoming more and more concerning the sheer  _ speed  _ with which their Phantom Thief work was disassembling and turning right back into grime. 

  
  
  


**It seemed** **_maintenance_ ** **was a word they would’ve had to consider placing in their vocabularies back when they were an active group.**

But despite this worrying trend, his connection to the velvet room had yet to spark back up and give him any semblance of a mission. He wondered if, through becoming an actual cat, he had severed that connection, or if the destruction of the Metaverse had destroyed the room itself as well. 

  
  
  


But then again, that  _ shadow  _ hadn’t disappeared. So, some form of physical cognition had to remain. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


He listened along to the different conversations going on, trying his best to avoid staring too hard at the thing that was sucking most of his attention, instead trying to direct himself to catch any implicating phrasing out of the group, something that would explain what the hell was going on with them, their neon scents and their shadow hoarding habits. 

He came out.. surprisingly empty.

There were a few conspirative glances, and a few inside jokes here and there, but nothing that would scream out  _ I’m involved with the supernatural _ in any shape or form outside of the COMP conversation of before. At least he had a lead there. He did find out that the shadow liked crossdressing, though. Good for it, he guessed, even if it was very jarring knowing that Akira and a shadow had actually things in common that weren’t just recruitment exploits in palaces. 

He guessed he would have to become accustomed to i- _ him _ , then. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


...If it was to make Akira smile, he would.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


So when the shadow gave him a piece of meat, he accepted it while trying not to flinch, and gave him a friendly look, which he corresponded with a happy grin. He did flinch away from being pet, though.

  
  
  


He.. he didn’t seem that bad. Dangerous, but not bad. Perhaps in the same way an orca whale was, a dangerous creature out of nature, not out of malice. 

( _ Akira and him had watched a documentary about orca whales while still in Leblanc one rainy afternoon, after having rented the wrong title thinking it was a foreign horror movie. _

_ The whole walk back home they had excitedly discussed just how scary it could possibly be, Morgana wanting, this time, to go through the entire film without looking scared even once, a fun little challenge. _

_ But instead, the moment Akira started it up, it had turned out to be a fascinating tale of creatures Morgana had no idea actually existed till that moment, graceful yet deadly, with a color scheme similar to his own.  _

_ Akira looked utterly confused, but Morgana.. he couldn’t stop watching. _

_ They weren’t big fish as he had first theorized, but instead a kind of mammal, like Akira and his physical form, that had adapted to marine life through the absolutely confusing to him yet apparently very effective process of evolution through natural selection. His eyes sparkled as he watched the documentary in that dark attic, their elegant movements looking as if they were flying through particularly thick air, not even the blood on their massive teeth breaking that impression of absolute grace. When Akira told him he was going to stop it, he yelled at him, to let him appreciate the beautiful creatures a while longer.  _

_ “Okay! Okay, sheesh, I didn’t know you were into wildlife, Mona.” _

_ The orca arched its back over the ice as it caught its prey in a quick display of pure and absolute skill. _

_ “Me neither.” He breathed out. _ )

Akira’s laughter ran through the restaurant like a soothing balm, a sound he could hear one thousand times and wouldn’t get old, provoked by some silly story Chie had told him.

He could feel the rumble of pure love in his chest as he laid his head over his paws on Yu’s lap, his gaze concentrated in a grin he adored while he felt two different hands over his fur.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


This.. he could get used to these people.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Yes, even the strange ass shadow.

  
  
  
  
  


He would have to practice calling i-  _ him _ Teddie, though. It still didn’t come out naturally.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When the Sun went down and the restaurant only had them as clients, it was finally time to say goodbye. 

Yosuke and Yu had an early morning the following day, so they couldn’t stay for any more time, Kanji needed to give his mother her medicine, so Naoto had to go as well, as they--( _ Morgana would have to ask Akira about that, as he wasn’t exactly sure what Naoto identified as. He was eager and willing to learn, but he had yet to know what was up there.  _

_ Akira, bless his heart, had been absolutely patient with all his weird lines of questioning when he explained human sexuality to him in greater detail than what he knew. He wouldn’t ask so many embarrassing questions this time, looking back he had been a little  _ **_too_ ** _ eager and willing to learn, but.  _

_ He wanted to respect Naoto. Not because he was told to, but because he understood, and supported fully. If they were going to become one of Akira’s friends, they would become one of his as well. _ )--were the one who had the keys to get inside. The shad-  _ Teddie, Morgana. His name is Teddie _ \- had wanted to stay, but seeing everyone was disbanding, he quickly moved in between Yu and Yosuke like an eager child. Chie and Yukiko both had to leave as well, waving their goodbyes as they silently left hand in hand. 

On the dark street only remained Akira, Rise, and Morgana, settled in Akira’s bag.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Just a little while longer, and Morgana would get to talk to him. 

Some of his worries had waned after he had heard them interacting a little further, but Morgana still had to warn Akira of some things. No matter how nice Teddie was, he was still  _ a shadow in real life _ , something that threatened to shatter their perceptions of not only the nature of the Metaverse, but of their  _ entire fight _ .

  
  


That, perhaps, they had only been ants in a backyard, and there was a whole world outside of their understanding that went far, far beyond the Metaverse and the Velvet Room. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


And so, Akira and Rise walked.

  
  


Morgana had to endure a few minutes of absolutely  _ horrible _ flirting coming from Akira (and then  _ he  _ made fun of Morgana’s approach to ladies! Akira had double the possibilities than him, and he  _ still sucked! _ ), but during those, he began thinking of ways to bring up the subject. 

  
  
  
  
  


( _ Perhaps he got too into his head, looking back. _ )

  
  
  
  
  
  


He didn’t want to mess up with Akira’s newly found friend group, not at all, but at the same time these issues had to be addressed, and he had to be warned. That didn’t mean no hanging out, but he had to at least be aware of what Morgana had overheard. That these group of persona users were carrying shadows around outside of any Metaverse, with the purpose of testing them, and seeing if they were compatible with… something? called a COMP.

_ What even was that? _

His first thought was that it was an acronym. But of  _ what _ ?

Complete Organized Metaverse Presences?

Creative Oriented Metaverse Powerups?

Compilation Of Metaverse Personalities?

  
  
  
  
  


Well, Morgana never said he had a huge ability in deciphering acronyms, did he. 

The silence that surrounded the three of them let him think a little clearer, but he had almost no material to work with. Perhaps if they brainstormed further, Akira and him could come up with something, but by himself? He had yet to piece  _ anything  _ together. 

Having given up for the moment, he turned towards the two humans, who were still talking. 

“You.. have they been making fun of you, Akira-kun?”

  
  


Morgana froze at the question. 

He expected Akira to lie or brush it off, as he had been doing more and more lately, a habit that was as worrying as it could get, but was pleasantly surprised to hear him not only being truthful, but simple, to the point.

  
  


It made Morgana.. immensely proud.

  
  


( _ Proud enough to stop having his attention focused on keeping them safe, as it should’ve. _ )

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**By the time he heard the car engine, realised it was the** **_same exact noise_ ** **from a few minutes before, and tried to warn Akira and Rise in a way it wouldn’t blow his cover as a simple cat,**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**It was too late.**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The two men were faster than his attempts to free himself from the bag that kept him trapped, and he yelped as Akira was grabbed, scooping the both of them like if they weighed nothing, trying to get them inside a black car. At that moment, he didn’t know what else to do but to try to fight the aggressors, but the fucking bag wouldn’t let him come out. His fight got stronger, more desperate as he did his best to open the zipper further and try to claw one of the men, do _something, anything that could help his best friend, help the one that had helped him over and over again-_ _ANYTHING THAT WOULDN’T MAKE HIM USELESS-_

  
  


But the zipper wouldn’t budge. 

  
  
  
  


It was trapped thanks to a few loose threads coming from the bag’s fabric, something that may have been easy for a calm human to detangle, but  _ absolutely impossible  _ for a cat to do while attempting his best to grab the men harming his best friend and prevent them from taking him. He could see Rise attempting her best as well, a fierceness he had  _ never  _ expected coming from her doe eyes as she charged towards the men, raising like a flame. It gave him courage to struggle harder,  _ harder _ , as he pulled out his claws and attempted his best to cause har-

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It took a single hit to his snout to take him out.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A single hit.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A single  _ fucking  _ hit.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He felt his own body falling onto the hard pavement, and Rise’s weight colliding against him, as her own impressively bright flame was snuffed out just as quick as his, and his best friend, the only person who had believed him, the one that had helped him find himself ever since that moment he had been imprisoned in the castle of an egomaniacal pedophile, who cared for him, had so diligently brushed him earlier that day, told him he loved him over and over, was taken away from him.

He could smell Rise’s desperation. 

He could smell his own blood.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Maybe Ryuji had been right that time, and he truly was useless. Maybe he shouldn’t have apologized for saying so.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When it mattered the most, he had failed.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He couldn’t protect his best friend.

  
  
  


As he laid there, cold rain hitting the bag, his fur soaking the mud around him, and his world slowly became black, all that came to mind was that it was a shame they never finished that nature documentary.

* * *

She really didn’t want to cry. 

But she couldn’t stop the fat tears rolling down her cheeks the moment Yosuke ran up to her and scooped her into a tight embrace at the rhythm of his desperate shout of “ _ RISE! _ ”, feeling how her nails involuntarily dug in his back, and her shoulders shook desperately. 

He kept her there for a few moments, as her sobs turned deeper, and all her tension and sorrow slipped out, the aftermath from adrenaline numbness. 

“It’s okay, Rise. It’s okay.” His voice was soft and airy against her hair, one of his hands having moved up to caress it, despite how wet it was from the rain. 

Yu joined them just a moment after, his own strong arms around the both of them, shushing them both, making a cocoon of safety.

Her tears felt like hot acid, ruining everything as they trailed down, staining black on Yosuke’s coat.

  
  
  


He didn’t pull away until she did.

  
  
  


Yu’s hands gently cupped her face and turned it to look at him, beautiful grey eyes full of concern and sorrow. “We’re here, sweetie.” He mumbled, something that made her laugh amongst the acid. She nodded, taking a moment to close her eyes and weakly bat Yu’s hands away, as well as the hands that had remained ghosting around her waist belonging to Yosuke. 

They were here.

  
  
  
  


“Rise?” A third voice muttered, further away from the hug pile. 

  
  


Under one of the streetlights, washed out by its unforgiving artificiality, was Teddie. He was holding his phone, which explained why he hadn’t been the first one to jump into a tight hug. She looked at him and nodded once, a silent plea for him to continue. With a voice softer than any of them had ever remembered on him, he did so. 

“I called everyone else. They should be here soon.” He paused for a moment, as if trying to collect his thoughts as well as he could. “And uh..I. I’m sorry I didn’t go with you and Akira-kun. I.. I didn’t know this.. that this would happen, and I’m so stupid, I forget you don’t have your persona anymore, and I could’ve protected you two. I could’ve.” He laughed bitterly, still staying under the light. 

“I.. I promised to help you all, long ago. And. And a promise is a promise.. It’s not good to break them.”

His gaze lingered away from the other three. “I can’t do anything right, can I.” He let out another dark, bitter laugh. “I’m. I’m so sorry.”

The smell of rain lingered, drops coating everything they could, a blanket of sorrow all around them.

  
  
  
  
  


“Teddie..” Yosuke began, stepping closer, but was beaten by Rise’s running, her steps sloppy through the wet floor as she grabbed Teddie and clung to him, startling him from his dark spiral, both bathed under the light.

“Shut up, you stupid fucking bear.” She laughed softly as she hugged him tight, tight enough for him to squeeze back. Pulling back, she gave him a bright smile, despite the mascara tears and the puffiness of her eyes. 

“This isn’t your fault. It’s not mine, it’s not yours, not Yu’s, or Yosuke’s, or anyone’s. This is the fault of the sick fuckers that took Akira.”

Yu, behind them, nodded, carefully approaching the pair. “It’s nobody’s fault but theirs. And we’re going to get him back.”

Yosuke leaned his head on Yu’s shoulder, giving Teddie a soft smile. “Yup. Dude, none of us knew this was going to happen. Besides, I was the one who told you we had to talk when  _ we  _ got home. We were focused on your tests, how the fuck were we supposed to know a bunch of freaks would come and kidnap our friend? What matters now is that we get him back in one piece, as soon as we can. And who aided with that, calling everyone just now, hm?”

Teddie’s face slowly began turning once more into his characteristic smile. Rise squeezed his side gently.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“...Can I still have a group hug?” 

“Yes, you dumb bear.” Yosuke rolled his eyes, moving to hug him, Yu being the last one to pull them all together, Teddie comfortable in the middle, rain droplets having ruined everyone’s hairs and coats, but. 

They didn’t really mind.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The rest of the group arrived just a few minutes afterwards, Yukiko having a couple of umbrellas under her arm she had taken from the Inn, having correctly assumed that most of the others, in their hurry, wouldn’t have one. She passed them around, one for Teddie and Rise, one for Yu and Yosuke, and one for Kanji, as she knew Naoto would be moving around way too much the moment they started investigating, and Kanji would end up soaked. 

Chie held Yukiko’s other arm, a concerned expression on her features as they approached Rise, liberating herself for a moment to hug her better. On her shoulders she carried a bag, which clanked the moment both girls’ bodies collided. At her silent questioning, Chie answered. “Coffee. Princess took some that was in the cafeteria. We’ll need it if we want to make some progress here! Also some chargers, in case Kirijo contacts us again during the night.”

“Speaking of Kirijo,” Yosuke began, keeping close to Yu and under the umbrella. Naoto seemed the most anxious out of the listening bunch, their eyes switching back and forth as they scanned the place.

“Yamagishi-san was the one to answer me. They’re opening a case already, under an “unusual circumstances disappearance”.” 

Kanji whistled. “Oh shit, the whole deal, huh.”

Yosuke nodded. “From what she told me, they’re probably going to recruit a team to search as far as possible. We’re probably getting help from Nanjo, even.”

“ _ Nanjo? _ ” Chie’s eyes went wide at that, turning to Yosuke with a flabbergasted expression. “ _ The  _ Nanjo. The wildcard-team-having Nanjo. That Nanjo?!”

“Yup. That Nanjo.”

“Holy shit.” She breathed out. “ _ Holy shit, we’re working with Nanjo. _ ”

“So, we have little time. She told me she’s calling me back in a few minutes, by the way, I dunno if I told you that, Rise,” 

“You didn’t.” 

“Well, now you know. But our main objective is to avoid the police as much as possible, and work amongst us. Rise, you told us Akira’s talking cat was left around here?”

She nodded, taking a deep breath and wiping her cheeks, still clinging lightly to Teddie, Chie and Yukiko. “They knocked him out and tossed the bag, like I told you.”

“Then, we’re retracing your steps, until we find that bag.” Concluded Yu, taking Yosuke’s hand. “Rise, lead the way.”

  
  
  
  


And so, they walked.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


While Naoto’s specialty wasn’t missing cases, and instead it was homicide, this wasn’t the first time they had worked with a missing person, or shady organizations. The Kirijo group itself, for a while, had been under said label. 

( _ Some could argue it still was. _ )

They moved away from the small formation, looking around at the ground as the group walked. “If they don’t crash thanks to hydroplaning, it would really be a miracle. But Rise, you already reported the license number to Kirijo, right?”

“Yeah.” Her tone betrayed her nerves, fried from the amount of different emotions she had experienced all one after the other.

“Finding that car could be crucial. Who owns it, who bought it, where it was last seen, are all clues that could help us find Akira in no time.” They ran a hand through their blue black hair, sighing softly. “We could be dealing with literally anyone here except an ally.”

Lately, persona users have had a lot of enemies. From having to crack down on illegally experimenting labs, passing through more than one rich fetishist, to the government itself (the National Public Safety Commission wasn’t exactly in..  _ friendly _ terms with the Kirijo group, after all) that couldn’t -and shouldn’t- be trusted anymore, the possibilities of  _ where exactly _ Akira had been taken were way too many. 

  
  
  
  


A powerful persona user, possibly  _ a wildcard _ , if even Yu had been impressed by his power level, was a valuable asset.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Hence, to find him, they would need as much help as they could. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The call that was promised came quite sooner than expected, Fuuka Yamagishi’s gentle voice breaking through the dark atmosphere they carried over their shoulders. 

Yosuke put his phone on speaker as they walked.

“Hanamura-san? This is Yamagishi.”

“Hey, Yamagishi-san. You’re on speaker, I’m with the rest of the team.”

“Hello, everyone!” Her voice brightened slightly as she greeted the group, earning back a couple of soft responses, the emotions from the Investigation Team being a lot darker. “Hanamura-san told me a little earlier about the situation we’re currently going through! I’ll need to ask a couple more questions to the witness herself, if she wouldn’t mind. I already called our friends at Nanjo, so they can assist us in finding our friend, but we’ll need all the information possible to make this rescue a reality.”

Rise walked closer to the phone, holding onto Teddie for dear life as she did so. “Hello, it’s me- I. I’m the witness.”

“Oh- I know that voice! --Kujikawa-san?”

“Hey, Yamagishi-san.”

“Oh, Kujikawa-san! It’s a shame we have to hear from each other in a time like this. But I’m very glad to hear from you. I would love to chat further, but sadly what brought us together is the most important thing at the moment.”

Rise’s eyebrows knit together and she stood up straighter, her grip on Teddie loosening slightly as she gathered the courage to continue on talking. 

( _ She had..  _

_ She had left behind a lot of things in her pursuit for a “normal” life, hadn’t she. In the past, the stress of everything that had happened in her time as a persona user had taken a toll on her, which had only grown bigger and bigger in size to the point it was unsustainable on her psyche.  _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ Running, in a way, had helped ease the pain. _

_ Left her with a normal life, away from the mess that had been the lives of the Investigation Team up to that point, away from deals with forces bigger than what she could comprehend, from Kirijo, from Nanjo, from the price that one had to pay in exchange to dealing with personas. _

  
  
  
  
  


**_The very,_ ** **_very_ ** **_high price one had to pay._ **

  
  
  


_ A price so high, death could be considered mercy compared to the other possibilities that could possibly come her way _ .

  
  


_ Running had left her with a beautiful house, a few beautiful bed companions, good brand deals and a beautiful singing voice.  _

_ It had left her with an intact family, the safety of those closest to her through blood (half of which she didn’t talk to anymore), trips around the world. _

  
  
  


_ A good life. _

  
  
  


_ The coward 's life. _

  
  
  
  
  


_ A life where she couldn’t protect herself or the ones she loved as effectively as she used to. _

_ A life where she had to avoid people that had become vitally important in her life as much as possible, in fear she would get roped back into the mess. _

_ A life that felt as aimless as before she had discovered that world. _

  
  
  
  


_ A good life. _

  
  


_ An empty life. _

  
  


_ The coward 's life. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ She couldn’t say she had been proud of her decision. _ )

  
  
  


“It’s.. it’s great hearing from you again, Yamagishi-san. I’ll help with everything I can.”

“I already have his full name and physical appearance thanks to Hanamura-san, so that’s covered. What I’ll now need are the following things. First, a detailed as possible description of everything. Not only the license plate, which, by the way I must congratulate you, Kujikawa-san, for having such an excellent memory and knowing to memorize it, as it’ll help terribly, but I’ll now need a description of the people that took Kurusu-san, and anything that seemed odd in the events leading to the kidnapping itself.”

_ Kurusu-san. _

_ She hadn’t been aware that was his surname until Naoto’s little report, but now that she knew that, a lot more things clicked.  _

_ The Kurusu family weren’t exactly known, at least to her friends and her grandmother, as very agreeable people. Slightly reserved and acidic, they were overly polite at times to cover the more than one occurence where the true colors of the both of them had come out. Reliable, however. Quite good at what they did, talented people that were trustworthy in the sense of getting shit done.  _

_ She didn’t know that much about them outside of that, but. _

_ Having met the sweetheart that was Akira, with the sad and lonely aura, of a kid that had been pushed down over and over, and having seen the Kurusus when they shopped at her grandmother’s, with their over politeness, tendency to talk over others when there was an opinion that wasn’t theirs, and casual bigotry when speaking.. _

_ Things made a lot more sense. _

Her description was as detailed as she remembered, which.. wasn’t that much. But she did her best, summoning as much of her sharp memory as she could, describing the faces of the attackers as well as she could’ve registered her amidst her panic. While she did that, something came up in her mind, which was the utter  _ urgency _ with which the men taking Akira were working, as if they were on a tight schedule on the abduction agenda.

She voiced said thoughts, which Yamagishi also found off, and decided to save it into the report, just in case that detail became important.

“Oh, and. Rise, if I may add something.” Naoto came up next to her, their eyebrows knit together. “There’s a key witness we’re on the way to retrieving.”

“Oh? Who is that?”

“Kurusu-san 's cat.”

“...Excuse me?”

Rise quickly cut in. “The cat isn’t exactly a cat, Yamagishi-san. It’s a situation like with your teammate’s dog!”

“Oh! Oh, I see! Well, the cat could be holding valuable information as to why Kurusu-san was targeted! Please let me know when you find them, then.”

“We will.” 

“Excellent! Then, I have some information for all of you before we part ways for the night. First of all, I want to let you all know that the report has been made and sent to the central. We’ll have a team as soon as possible assembled, and funds redirected.”

“Thank you, Yamagishi-san.” Yosuke answered, changing the hand with which he was holding the phone, as it the one holding it before had become tired. 

“I also want to let you all know that I already got in contact with one of the main informants for the Nanjo Group, and there’s a high chance we’ll get their financial and tactical help.”

“We thank you for your efficiency, Yamagishi-san.” Yukiko said out loud, so the phone could catch it, as she was a little further from it.

“There is also an offer from the Kirijo Group to involve our friends specialized in shadow neutralization and classification in the search. It will be a bigger use of resources, but may produce faster results.”

Yu looked visibly uncomfortable at that offer, and so did Chie and Kanji, Yu being the one to speak up. “I don’t think employing them will be.. necessary. Please don’t send a copy of the report to  _ them _ , Yamagishi-san.”

“Well, the offer is still there. Their agents are extremely effective in neutralizing threats.”

“...Too effective.” Yu had to suppress a little shiver.

“I won’t send a report, then. Another offer, from the Nanjo group, is to involve, in case of necessity, their reserve members. Were you to accept the offer, there’s a certain risk to the employment of their skills, but with a great payoff.”

Yu hummed at that, tilting his head. “I don’t think we ever met them, actually.”

“They don’t like being seen, either.”

“Well, sure. If Akira isn’t found by our normal means? I say yes to involving the reserve members.” He glanced at the others, who met the offer with no resistance. 

“It’s a yes from us.” Yosuke answered for them. 

“Okay then! Wonderful. I’ll remain in contact as things progress. I wish you all as good of a night as possible, and I ask you to please contact me as soon as the other witness is located and can be interpreted.”

“We will, Yamagishi-san. Goodnight.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Retracing Rise’s steps was quite easy, soon finding themselves in front of Akira’s bag, with a passed out Morgana in it, his paws twitching from the cold. 

Yukiko’s heart felt like it cracked at that moment, her face betraying it so as she hurried and bent over to get a better look of the poor thing, Chie holding their umbrella over her body, her own face twisted into worry. 

  
  


**Morgana, honestly, looked half dead.**

  
  


The punch had been  _ bad _ , very bad, judging from the cut on one side of his face (most likely having been caused by something sharp on the attacker’s hand, most likely a ring or a piece of metal), a few ripped whiskers from the friction against the pavement, and the obvious lack of consciousness, his body splayed on the mud, half of it still in the soaked bag. Yukiko lifted it up as gently as she could, and with Chie’s assistance, they kept Morgana’s body away from any more rain, taking the bag away from the body, but taking it with them. 

Behind them was Rise herself, whose horrified eyes wouldn’t move away from the unconscious cat, tightly grabbing Teddie’s arm, who tried to shield her as much as he could with little reassurances and smiles, despite his own eyes being so wide they almost bulged out of his head. 

“Guess we found him,” broke Yu’s voice through the horrible scene. “Let’s not waste time and get him to safety-” 

“I’m offering our home.” Yukiko interrupted Yu, not even a little bit sorry about it. “I will heal him when we get there. I’m sorry, but those who can stay the night with Chie and I-” Yukiko turned to Chie, who nodded, completely on board with her girlfriend, a solemn expression on her face. “Please do. We will need to ask Morgana a couple of questions, and I’m not sure what his state will be when he wakes up.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Yukiko and Chie’s living space had suddenly turned a lot smaller.

  
  


The whole group stayed together, splayed up in different places once they had taken their coats and shoes off, watching with worried, yet tired eyes as Yukiko proceeded. 

  
  
  


“Persona.” She mumbled.

The familiar ring of blue hued light broke under her feet as she concentrated, lifting her hand steadily as her persona emerged, slightly translucent and imposing, the whole creature being so tall its head couldn’t be seen thanks to the walls around it. 

Morgana’s body had been placed on a towel on the floor, said towel as fluffy and comfortable as Chie had found, both to cushion him and to avoid the creature’s grime to smear all over the floor. The group didn’t dare bathe him, preferring instead to talk to him once he was awake and ask him, fearing that they would cross boundaries with him if they bathed him.

  
  


After all, consent was a little difficult to ask for in animals, but in talking ones, the logic pointed towards having to ask before bathing anywhere. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


She took her time with the job, wanting to make it as well as possible, with as much attention to detail as she could muster. Unlike in battle, where healing spells could be thrown around freely, here..

She would have to admit she was scared of fucking up somehow.

  
  


She continued gently, the distribution of the spell as controlled as possible, the words muttered once, but then held and directed, a technique that had been born out of necessity amongst the Kirijo Group for delicate cases where a sudden repair of bone and tissue could seriously fuck up the receiver. 

Rise’s eyebrows knit together in worry, Teddie clutching her close as they both watched.

She broke the solemn silence with a soft, slightly broken mutter. “Is it too late for me to ask to have my persona back?”

Yu turned to her. “Rise, you.. don’t do this out of guilt.”

She turned to look at him, wet hair enveloping her face, having had no energy to even attempt drying it. “I’m not asking out of guilt.”

“Please, at least think it over for a while before coming back.”

“You prefer me gone?” She smiled a little, even though it didn’t reach her eyes.

His eyebrows furrowed further, even Yosuke joining him, his own expression one of softer worry. “We- I-  _ never. _ You’re our friend, Rise. And we love you, dearly.” Yosuke nodded silently along. “We just don’t want you to live with the tension of being a permanent persona user, that’s all.”

Yukiko lifted her head for a moment, taking her eyes from Morgana’s form. “There are times I get worried Chie or I will end up crumbling from the pressure.” Chie, not too far away from her girlfriend, had the coffee thermos on her hand as she nodded along. “It’s mentally exhausting, Rise! It. Can get hard at times. You become an enemy of many people, just by being there.”

Kanji had his arms wrapped around Naoto’s waist, as they looked over some things with their phone. “You just.. Kinda become sorta a slave to all the god bullshit. Some day they need you or some shit, and you kinda have to be there, y’know? ‘S why I took it, and Nao didn’t. Y’know, in case somethin’ happens to me.”

“I wanted to be the one to do it.” Naoto corrected, their eyes betraying incredible pain. “Or for him to not do it. I don’t.. does Rise know we broke up about it?” They turned to the others, Yu shaking his head. 

Rise looked taken aback about it. “You two..?”

“Took me a whole year to win ‘em back.” Kanji chuckled, Naoto’s weary face turning into a little smile. 

“It was stupid, now that I look back. But.. I wasn’t sure if I could handle the thought of him possibly getting killed.” They laughed. “But I was a hypocrite, I have that risk too. And I realised, life without him felt absolutely empty.” They leaned upwards, to kiss Kanji’s cheek, then turned to Rise. “You.. You have to decide, Rise. If the risk is worth the payoff. To us, it was.”

She tilted her head.

“The payoff is huge to me. I have a purpose with Kirijo. ‘S a power I wouldn’t trade for anythin’. I can protect my family, myself, ‘n help my community.”

“In my case, I chose against it not only because of what Kanji said, but because I found my purpose more as an intelligence agent, than an active persona user. I already have a mortal job, I don’t need two.” They chuckled. “I belong with the force.”

“The police are absolutely corrupt, though.” Yosuke said, chuckling. 

“...Yes, I know. You know I advocate for reforms, Yosuke.” Their eyes narrowed.

“Still.”

Rise spoke up, really not wanting to hear an argument on the matter. “I.. I still want to know if I have that option open. Even if I say no once more after all of this is over. I want to know if I even can say yes.”

“I.. wouldn’t know, Rise.” Yu shrugged. “The ones that know best are the ones specified at Kirijo.”

  
  
  


She hummed, her hand subconsciously grabbing her phone to text some leftover contacts, but she stopped herself. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


There was no need to rush. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Not yet.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The atmosphere fell back into silence for a bit, before Teddie broke it once more once Yukiko had deemed her job finished and dismissed her persona.

“So.. the kitty isn’t waking up yet, and I happen to have Uno cards with me.” He grinned, lifting the plastified box from his pocket.

There was silence as everyone else looked at each other.

“Bring it on, bear. I’ll destroy you.” Chie grinned and rose up, the others following to sit on the floor around Teddie and Rise.

* * *

  
  
  


In his delirious state, Morgana thought he had seen Yukiko’s hands hovering over him, floating behind her a glorious golden persona. 

The shine was so strong, so beautiful, wrapping around the long black hair and making it golden, the creature so massive, so supernatural, it went through walls seamlessly, sunshine that couldn’t be controlled, breaking through anything it didn’t deem worthy. 

He heard chattering, but he couldn’t concentrate on it, instead absolutely entranced by the sheer beauty of what was saving his life. His eyes would fall closed again, being too tired to function properly yet, but in his chest there had been a single feeling:

  
  
  
  
  
_ Everything was going to be alright _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next! More Inaba, more things all coming together!!!!


	16. chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first notes in a song are usually the softest.  
> It begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a surprise added to this chapter at first, but decided against it, and instead putting it all in the next one. As always, thank you so much for reading this far!!!

_ He felt incredibly sore. _

A mess of lights seemed to dance over his head, luminaire in warm hues that seemed to barely stand still when he opened his eyes and let out a soft groan. 

  
  
  
  


_ Where was he? _

  
  
  


He could smell something that hadn’t been cleaned in a long while, alongside the unmistakable scents of dirt and rain, which made him a little confused, as he didn’t feel like he was outdoors, not with that harsh lighting.

Around him he could hear some voices, but it all felt as if he was hearing things under water, a layer of liquid coating it all,

  
  
  
  


Which he ended up puking out. 

It even startled  _ him _ , moving as quickly as he could to avoid getting more of the substance than what had already gotten on his fur, unable to stop the fluid from coming out.

Around him there was quick noise, the padding of multiple feet and the ruffling of many different fabrics, until he found himself puking on a soup plate instead of the towel he had just found out he had been laying on top of. 

“Fuck, no, Morgana, I cleaned the floor this morning!-” “Shh! He doesn’t feel okay!” Many voices whispered among each other around him, but he could only concentrate in emptying himself out at that moment, breathing heavily when he was finally able to.

Only to go on at least two more times.

  
  
  
  
  


“Shit.. Yukiko what did you do?”

“What I always do! I didn’t think it would hurt him like this!”

“Maybe he’s just dizzy? It happened to me the first time I was healed like this!” Oh, that voice was so gratingly loud. 

A hand laid on his fur, gently petting him as he panted against the plate. “Hey, Morgana, it’s okay.. It’s gonna be okay.”

  
  


_ Oh. _

_ That’s where he was. _

  
  


He coughed a couple of times, finally managing to close his mouth enough to swallow down the saliva that had accumulated in his mouth, grimacing at the bitter taste.

_ Ugh, he was sore.  _

  
  
  


When he finally looked up, eight pairs of eyes were looking at him with various mixtures of worry and sympathy, one still utterly uncanny. 

“Morgana? You here with us?” Yosuke waved his hand in front of him, but he really wasn’t up to the whole  _ playing confused victim _ bit, so he batted his hand off with his paw, meowing in tired annoyance.

“Morgana, we know you can talk. You don’t have to hide it.” Yu had still kept his hand over his fur, still gently stroking his back, an action that Morgana didn’t pay that much attention to, not when the rest of his body was killing him, and he was mentally debating whether to talk was the best course of action. 

_ Could he? _

_ Well, they had a goddamn shadow with them, so a talking cat (not really a cat) wouldn’t be that much of a surprise, but it still meant implicating Akira and himsel- _

  
  
  
  


_ Akira. _

  
  
  
  
  


_ Fuck,  _ **_Akira._ **

**_Akira was gone._ **

  
  
  


**And he hadn’t been able to do anything to stop it.**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Suddenly, he really wanted to puke again, putting his head over the soup plate once more, the others looking worriedly at him as he waited for discard that didn’t come out, he was already empty.

But fuck if he didn’t want to puke really bad at the thought of not only having failed his best friend, but that said best friend was probably being tortured somewhere.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ (Again.) _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He turned to Yu, who had kept diligently stroking him. 

_ Could Morgana trust them?  _

  
  
  


_ If they had wanted to harm him, they could’ve done so already. _

  
  


_ If they weren’t at least somewhat good people, they could’ve simply left him in the rain.  _

  
  


_ Rise could’ve not tried getting Akira back with the sheer ferocity she had.  _

  
  


_ Hell, they could’ve not talked to Akira in the first place, this wasn’t an Akechi situation, there was nothing to find out about Akira as there were no Phantom Thieves anymore.  _

  
  


_ They didn’t even need him for his power, they had powers of their own! _

  
  
  
  
  


And so,

He decided to bite the bullet.“My head hurts.” He mumbled.

A collective sigh of relief could be heard from the group. 

Yukiko wouldn’t take her eyes off of him, which he would’ve been happy about if it was in any other situation other than being completely caked in mud, having just puked, his best friend missing and his head hurting like a bitch. “Chie, please go get some ice.” 

The woman rose up quickly to get it, as the others sat around a little closer to Morgana. He was used to large groups, so the amount of people didn’t really intimidate him. 

What did so, was the fact that he was completely alone, with a sentient shadow, with no actual familiar faces and no way to contact them, as he didn’t exactly have a phone of his own, depending on Akira for those things entirely-

_ The phone. _

“Well, Morgan-”

“Akira’s phone.” He rose up despite his soreness, looking around frantically, which earned him a couple other people looking around as well in imitating confusion, before Naoto spoke up. “Chie left the bag at the kitchen, I’ll go get it.” They rose up swiftly.

Oh.

Well, at least Morgana had  _ one  _ lifeline, even if he couldn’t work it very well, and their unflinching support to his request of seeing the phone tilted the scale further to them not being bad people at all. 

“Morgana.” Yu’s voice over him was gentle, almost cautious, as his hands gently coerced Morgana into sitting back down. “Can you answer some questions for us? We won’t force you to say anything you don’t want to.”

He looked..surprisingly  _ soft _ , eyes letting through a  _ warmth _ , a  _ helping hand _ Morgana hadn’t realised he needed until right then. 

( _ He swallowed down the pain of those eyes not being Akira’s, and nodded _ .)

  
  
  
  


“How long have you and Akira each other?”

“I- more than a year now.” He was rewarded with more gentle petting. 

“Do you know of anyone who would hate him enough to do this?”

_ This. _

He knew Yu didn’t mean to be reductive, but it was so odd, condensing all of Akira’s pain into a simple  _ this. _

  
  


“I- I mean..” How could he answer that? The proper answer would be  _ many _ ,  _ way too many _ , but at the same time it wasn’t Akira himself what those probable others would be after, but what he and his friends had done  _ as Phantom Thieves _ .

_ Shido 's people. _

_ Kaneshiro 's people. _

_ Kamoshida 's inner circle. _

  
  


Yu didn’t pressure him to go on. 

Yosuke moved to sit closer to Yu, offering Morgana a little smile. His bright blue eyes darted slightly, looking at a very silent, very guilty looking Rise, the sh- _ Teddie  _ hugging her. 

  
  
  
  


“A few people, yeah.” He settled with. 

  
  


“Are there any names you could give us?” Naoto’s voice broke through as they lifted Akira’s bag with one hand. Next to them was Chie, who rushed towards Morgana and placed the ice pack on his head. 

“Any asses we can kick?” Kanji piped in, making a ‘beating up’ gesture with his hands. 

Morgana put his attention on the bag placed in front of him, however, paws rummaging through it as fast as he could with the amount of exhaustion on his body. When he saw the electronic device, he sighed in relief, grabbing it carefully and showing it to the others. 

“It’s a shame we can’t locate him through gps, but this will still be of great help.” Naoto took it from Morgana as they said that, placing it inside their pant’s pocket. 

“I don’t really have exact names.” Morgana said after a few seconds to answer their previous question, still unsure of revealing any connections to the Phantom Thieves.

Yu hummed in response. “Okay. One final question, and we’ll leave you be for now.” His face shifted into something oddly serious, which worried Morgana slightly.

  
  


Yu put his head in between his hands, away from Morgana, two fingers on each resting against his nose bridge, still not taking his eyes away from the mud covered figure in the middle. For a moment everything was silent, tension slowly building up and coating everything around them. On his side, Yosuke’s stare was cold and calculating, and for a moment it felt as if both of them had shed a layer of practiced cheerfulness, and Morgana was staring at the actual men under that. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“What..”

Morgana braced himself for anything.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“What exactly do you eat? Just like a human or cat food only or-Shut up Yosuke, this is important information.” Yosuke hadn’t said anything, but his face had contorted into a knowing look.

_ Oh- _

_ Oh, god damnit. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He wasn’t sure what he had expected. 

  
  


Letting out a soft laugh, shaking his head, Morgana answered. 

“Sushi is a favorite.”

“I’ll give you all the sushi you want.” Yu nodded, oddly determined.

Yosuke, for his part, was trying really hard not to laugh.

“Oh no, he’s got the cat lover look on him. Morgana, he’s gonna pet the shit out of you after we get the mud off of you. Like, you think this is petting? It’s gonna get worse.”

“Hey, I’d pet him  _ and  _ feed him, partner.” Yu lifted his index finger up, to drive in his point. 

“I mean, I’m starving, so, I’d appreciate it.”

  
  


“Then, could I make you dinner?” Yukiko offered. “None of us has eaten since the restaurant, and I believe it could help all of us get some more energy than simply coffee.” Chie adjusted the ice on Morgana’s head. “And while Yukiko does that, we could help you have a shower? Y’know, to get all that grime off of you.”

“I can help, Yukiko.” Kanji offered.

  
  
  


_ That..  _

  
  
  
  
  


_ that was incredibly nice of them. _

  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Dinner had turned out to be quite good, a joint effort in between Yukiko, Kanji and Yu, which had been prepared simultaneously to the little team that had assembled to set the table, Teddie and Yosuke, and the team that had helped Morgana get cleaned, consisting of Rise and Chie. 

And sure, he fucking hated water, but compared to the sheer amount of puke and grime on his fur? The marine scented shampoo was nothing. 

As Rise helped lather the product on him, and he tried to avoid cringing too hard, she spoke up. “Hey, Morgana?” Chie, meanwhile, was getting everything ready to dry him. 

“Yeah?”

Her smile was warm and surprisingly adoring for someone who had only known him for a couple of hours. But her energy, despite being human and not one of a persona user, and despite the guilt in the corners of her soul, seemed to have an aura of gentle caring, a flicker of warm light despite the dark and the cold.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” She muttered, still locking her eyes with his.

He.. he felt loved, in that moment.

  
  
  


With family he had just remembered he had.

  
  
  
  


“Yeah!” Chie turned to smile at him as well. “You were really brave, Morgana! You did a great job!”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


In a tiny Japanese bathroom, under a white ceiling and surrounded by yellow tiling, covered by a warm towel and safely away from any more horrendous water, Morgana made two new friends.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Naoto had stayed behind, checking a few things on Akira’s phone, mainly trying to crack his password after Morgana had revealed he didn’t know it and they had managed to charge it slightly, Akira had changed it one last time and he hadn’t gotten around to asking him what the password was. Their eyebrows were furrowed, as they had tried any common combination, his birth date, random number sequences, other more obvious patterns. They at least tried to stop the phone from being on airplane mode, to no avail.

This lack of access was something they voiced with concern the moment dinner was placed on the table and everyone scrambled to sit somewhere somewhat close to the main conversation and eat.

“I suppose it’ll remain locked for now.” Naoto declared, their defeat dripping all over their noodles.

  
  
  
  
  


For the moment, it would. Instead, the group turned to a topic change. 

Yosuke piped in, after finally swallowing the huge bite of food he had taken. “But seriously, Morgana. Are you okay, dude? I know Yukiko healed you and all, but sometimes things are kinda messy in the real world with persona powers. No weird feelings?”

_ Wait.  _

_ What. _

  
  


_ He hadn’t been hallucinating that? _

_ A persona in the real world. _

**_A persona in the real world?_ **

Was that even possible?

How could they even do that! They had no masks around from what he saw, and how could the real world even  _ begin _ to support something like that?

  
  


“...I have many questions, actually, but yeah, Yosuke. I’m okay.”

Yosuke blinked a couple of times, and leaned against Yu, whispering to him, something that Morgana could hear anyways, but still appreciated the gesture. “Hearing a cat talk is still uncanny as fuck, damn.”

“I’m not a cat, but sure, it’s pretty uncanny.”

Yosuke let out a clipped laugh, rubbing the back of his neck to ease the discomfort of being caught saying that. “You do have a cat’s hearing tho, huh!”

“Yup.”

Oh, that was a pretty awkward revelation, wasn’t it? Yosuke certainly looked so, but chose instead of marinating in it and overthinking  _ what exactly  _ Morgana had overheard, to laugh it off. 

Chie seemed still a little confused, her chopsticks dangerously close to sinking completely into her bowl. “But wait! You said you weren’t a cat! Then- then what are you?”

_ Would it be wise to reveal that? _

_ They were offering him food, a bath, shelter, but. _

  
  


“I wasn’t made in this reality.” He slowly, and with more than enough pauses, said, bracing himself for any weird line of questioning. 

  
  
  
  


Nobody in the room found it weird.

“Oh!” Chie seemed pleased by the answer, not even asking to elaborate, as if she really didn’t need so.

“The shadow realm, the sea of souls, or the velvet room?” Yu casually replied.

That..

Okay, so, Morgana had even more questions now. They seemed to be progressively accumulating, instead of clearing themselves up. 

He blinked at Yu a few times. “Uh. The velvet room. You.. you have been to the velvet room?”

“Oh! My bad, I assumed you were a shadow! Sorry.” Chie smiled at him.

_ A shadow? _

_ He looked like a shadow?! _

_ And even more importantly,  _

  
  
  


_ How.. How was everything so casual? _

_ How come his master, Igor, had never told him?  _

_ Or Lavenza?  _

_ On his conception he could justify it as a lack of time, but the second time he was there?  _

_ Not even a little mention? _

  
  


_ “Oh, by the way Morgana, there are also persona users way older than the trickster and his friends. Neat, huh?” That could’ve been really useful! _

  
  
  


_ … What about the Yaldabaoth incident?  _

_ Where had these people been? _

_ Had they also not noticed what was going on because they weren’t participating in the bet? _

  
  
  


_ … _

_ What about Maruki’s reality? Had they gone through it? Did it reach Inaba? Well, he assumed it so. _

Yosuke nodded, having recovered from feeling absolutely out of place and awkward, instead coming forward towards Morgana. “Only this guy,” He pointed at Yu. “Has. But yeah, we know about it.”

“..My master, Igor. He never told me about any of you.” Well, he had to voice out that thought, damnit! “I.. I only have been there twice, though, so. I don’t know if it was the lack of time or something else.”

Yu nodded along. “Huh. Well, he tends to do that, yeah.”

“He tends to do that?”

“Yes, he’s very secretive from what you’ve told us.” Yukiko piped in. 

“We’d go there and ask ‘im, but we can’t.” Kanji looked up from his more shushed 

conversation with Naoto, who seemed slightly frustrated, but was quickly recovering. For the moment, Morgana paid them no mind. 

“Hey! I’ve also been to the velvet room!” Teddie yelled, his smile still utterly unsettling to Morgana, whose flinch was a little more noticeable this time.

“Well, yeah Teddie, but you didn’t meet Igor, did you?” Chie turned towards him. Teddie shook his head. “Nope! But I was there! And it was a veeeery blue place! Extremely blue!”

Yu nodded, his eyes on Morgana, concern over his features the moment he had flinched. “I wonder what’s up with all the blue.”

Morgana hummed. It truly was very blue, wasn’t it. “Yeah, the velvet room I know of is also blue!”

“Even the attendant’s clothes.”

“Even those! Wait. You met Lady Lavenza?”

“Huh? No, I met Margaret. And Marie, but Marie is a whole other story.” Yu shrugged, smiling softly at Morgana. “So Lavenza, huh. Is she nice?”

“Lady Lavenza? She’s..”

_ Lovely _ , was the word that came to mind. 

Someone who had gone through a horrible trauma, and still bounced back gracefully. A soul to look up to, in her strength and determination. Strong and unafraid of it, a sister figure and a helper. Someone to rely on, in case the world got wrapped into a maniac’s machinations.

“She’s lovely.” Morgana settled with that adjective, finding it more than proper. As he lowered his head to continue eating, having been accommodated for by placing more than a few pillows to help him reach the table, he took a second to simply..

_ Be, _

Before they had to begin Akira’s rescue, which he had been put up to date about just a few minutes before. 

In the morning, he would have to give a detailed step by step guide of more or less Akira’s whole existence, something that, while it made him nervous, if it was for the sake of  _ rescuing him _ , he would say even where and when he went to the bathroom. 

  
  


The darkness of what had brought them all together without the main reason for knowing Morgana hung over them like a grim mantle, but for just a few seconds, Morgana closed his eyes. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The noodles were wonderful.

  
  
  


Morgana couldn’t believe Yukiko had once been absolutely horrendous at cooking. 

* * *

Saturday’s sun rose over Tokyo surrounded by clouds.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A premonition, perhaps.

  
  
  
  
  
  


A whole night passed, and Akira had yet to be online.

  
  


And Futaba wasn’t nervous. No! Not at all!

Maybe they had partied all night, Akira and his new friends. Maybe he had lost his phone somewhere and he had yet to find it. 

But Akira, even more so lately,  **_was always online_ ** . 

Even if he wasn’t talking to Futaba herself, he had his phone with him, just in case.

Sure, she had said she wouldn’t get in his personal business too much, but the moment the Sun was firmly in the sky, and the weather had gotten to its highest point in the day, and Akira had  _ yet to appear _ , she began to pace around. She had helped him that time with his parents, right?

Maybe he had shut his phone this time because he didn’t want her to butt into his conversations with his new friends?

  
  


_ Maybe she was being replaced. _

  
  


But that couldn’t be it!

Just that Friday morning they had spoken as if everything had been fine.

And Akira would let her know if something was wrong between them, right?

_ Right? _

  
  
  


_ She didn’t want to assume the worst. _

  
  
  
  
  
  


Maybe he just lost it.

Maybe his charger broke.

  
  
  


Maybe she should’ve spanned his phone the night before.

She has to say, tho, that she had been distracted that night.

Coming out to Sojiro had been an absolute success, and to celebrate it, she spent more than enough hours yelling Ann and Shiho’s ears off until all three passed out, an aura of happiness and security she had yet to say she had  _ ever _ felt before. 

It was exhilarating, being able to share these things with friends who not only understood superficially, but in fact felt like her,  _ actually understood _ . A sentiment that made Futaba’s heart rise in the best of ways, declaring she was loved and secure.

  
  
  


And then, that morning, to make things  _ even better _ , Sumire had finally confirmed a day for them to hang out, which would be the following Tuesday after school, where Futaba could be there for one of her practices. 

And it was great!

It was wonderful, amazing!

  
  
  


_ But Akira had yet to text her back. _

  
  
  
  


Her phone almost slipped from her sweaty hands.

  
  


Sojiro had made her her favorite kind of curry for breakfast, and her coffee with some extra love, a celebration of their bond that was now completely true, no more secrets between them both. She smiled softly at him, and ate it with gusto, 

  
  
  


_ But Akira had yet to text her back. _

  
  
  


“Kid? Are you okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” She let out a little laugh, more out of anxiety than anything. “I’m just tired, I spent all night talking to Ann.”

He smiled fondly at her, putting a hand on her shoulder, and she should’ve been content in that moment,

  
  
  


_ But Akira had yet to text her back. _

And Inari had asked her to hang out that Saturday to talk about random bullshit while he made art out of said random bullshit, which was always a great plan. 

  
  
  


_ But Akira had yet to text her back. _

  
  
  
  
  
  


Her finger hovered on her keyboard, the darkness of her bedroom feeling absolutely suffocating, no matter how high and bright the Sun was. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Something was horribly wrong. 

  
  


It had to be. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Somehow, she knew it to be so.

  
  
  
  


**13:45**

**[Inari the furry]:** Futaba? Is something the problem?

**[Inari the furry]:** You never take this long to reply if you happen to be online. I am only asking because you had told me yesterday you had something urgent to tell me, hence my proposition for us to meet today.

**[Alibaba]:** inari look dude something came up

**[Alibaba]:** like really fucking in levels of importance

**[Alibaba]:** possibly worrying af shit

**[Inari the furry]:** Oh. Well, my best wishes in whatever it is that came up, Futaba. If you wish to talk to me about it, you know I will listen, and will continue to support you for as long as you let me remain in your company.

**[Alibaba]:** lmao thats the most pretentious way ive ever seen of saying “bitch u ok”

**[Alibaba]:** kay so if you dont mind ruining the anime tiddie drawin time

**[Inari the furry]:** Once again, Futaba, I wasn’t going to draw any “anime tiddie”.

**[Alibaba]:** come over and shit cause this bullshit is about akira and im worried about him and i really dont wanna think the worst

**[Inari the furry]:** Oh?

**[Alibaba]:** kira hasnt replied to me since yesterday when hanging out w his new friends n shit

**[Alibaba]:** n im worried they did something to him

**[Alibaba]:** so if u wanna still hang we gonna hang here 

**[Alibaba]:** if thats too boring for u go paint urself

**[Alibaba]:** sorry man

  
  
  
  


He took a couple of minutes to reply.

  
  
  
  


**13:52**

**[Inari the furry]:** Futaba.

**[Inari the furry]:** I’d never leave you to carry a burden alone if I’m aware of it. 

**[Inari the furry]:** As your friend and confidant, I’m here for you, however you need me. 

**[Inari the furry]:** Please make Sojiro aware of my upcoming presence, as I’ll be there in less than an hour. 

**[Inari the furry]:** And we’ll worry together.

* * *

**From: Data@Nanjogroup.com**

**For: Info-347@MainOfficeskg.com**

**Date: xx/xx/20xx, 15:54**

**[** **_Message under End-to-End Encryption (E2EE)_ ** **]**

RE: CASE FILE #29-WC PROTOCOL-VR FULL COPY

Good afternoon! The request has been approved of and signed accordingly. Command post, search and rescue teams have been assembled. Resources have been directed.

Grid search in areas 3, 4, and 6 will commence today, spanning until the whole three areas have been combed through. 

In case of additional testimonies or surging witnesses, please let us know.

As for the solicitation of reserve members, our offer goes to collaborate with the shadow neutralization and classification team unit KG-1-2, common name “doppelganger unit”, a duo with optional backup specialized in intelligence and destructive oriented neutralization. Classification SS++.

As a secondary offer, we bring forward the shadow neutralization and classification team unit MI-4-4A, common name “reincarnation unit”, a duo with optional backup specialized in destructive oriented neutralization and evidence elimination. Classification SS+++.

This email must be replied to in the timeframe of 24 (twenty four) hours since sent.

Informant’s note:

Hello! It’s a pleasure to add that our current search coordinator for this rescue mission, as we’re dealing with a WC protocol, will be none other than Helios! I know some of our friends in Kirijo really like the guy, so! That’s a nice surprise!

As always, involving any political member from ANY party is strictly forbidden, until our investigations on Masayoshi Shido are complete. 

Thank you for the cooperation!

-Venus (Nanjo Main offices)

* * *

Missing children always hit the hardest, especially when he had had his own scare in his life. 

The kid in the photo looked rebellious, sure, angry and ready to go against the world, but his features were so young.

So unmistakably ones of a still growing child.

They..

They could do so much fucked up stuff to this child.

He sighed, taking a sip of his coffee as he continued reading the entire report, only pausing at one name.

Huh. 

It seemed this asshole was ruining any lives he could get anywhere close to. 

_ Masayoshi Shido. _

The fucker that had finally managed to dirty his hands fully, would one look at that. He smeared his highlighter over the name, not even bothering to make a proper line, no matter how much there was an itch in the back of his head. 

  
  
  


Trash didn't deserve straight lines. 

  
  
  
  


As he loaded his gun, sent a text to his brother about a wonderful recipe he had just found, and prepared more weapons under his vest, just in case, he committed the kid's face to memory.

It was a wonderful day today, and he really didn't want to find a cadaver. 

  
He wanted to produce it himself, from the bullet he would put on that man's head.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Finding the car had been an easy task, thanks to the witness’s memory, a model that seemingly had no legitimate owner, nor was in current use, yet had been seen circulating more than once through more than one Japanese town. Through their assigned areas, 3,4 and 6, aka most districts in Sumaru City, the car hadn’t been seen, but what  _ had  _ been seen, was the man that seemed legally responsible for its license.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


That very fine Saturday afternoon, an antique shop in Aoba was very interesting for a father and son duo.

The shop was owned by their current lead, a short Chinese man by the name of Chen Zhao, a seemingly friendly and righteous individual, whose only apparent crime was to own a car that had been used for a kidnapping. 

“Can I help you sir with anything?” He asked.

“Actually, yes.” A blonde, foreign looking man turned to him with a polite smile, having to stare down at him from their sheer difference in height. “I was looking for something for my wife? She has a 1980s sewing machine, and I was wondering if you sold any parts for it?” He asked, with a british accent.

“We sure do! Could I know the exact model and serial number of it?”

“Yes, she wrote it for me, let me..” As the man took out a small piece of paper, his son seemed to be touching literally  _ everything.  _ “Tim, please- ugh, excuse my son, sir, he’s just very curious, and not used to how things work here in Japan.”

“Oh, come on dad! I’m not doing anything wrong!” The son retorted, a deep frown on his face. The shop owner simply laughed, offering him a sunny smile. “It’s alright, kid! Just be careful when looking around, alright?”

  
  
  
  


He didn’t have to be told twice, disappearing inside the shop.

“He seems like a nice kid.”

“He is. He’s my only son. He’s fifteen.” He gave the man the piece of paper with the model and serial number of the old sewing machine. 

“Is your wife Japanese?” He asked absentmindedly as he read it over.

“Yes, but he was born abroad. We just moved back, and he’s still very used to the western way of handling things.”

“Hmm.. well, I hope he adjusts well. He’s settling at the right time, though, if the People’s Security party’s rising notoriety is anything to go by. It’s nice to see some politicians wanting to make things more welcoming and secure, even for immigrants like us.”

Luckily the shop owner hadn’t seen his grimace. “Oh? You’re an immigrant as well?”

“From Shanghai, yes. Left for love as well, my wife grew up here in Sumaru. We met a decade ago online.”

“What a coincidence! Mine and I met the same way.”

Zhao seemed particularly happy about being validated on the way he had met his wife, giving the man a quick smile before being back into the subject of business. “Look sir, we don’t have parts for this machine right here, but I could phone a few colleagues from Yasoinaba who have them.”

“Oh? I have no problem with it, but where exactly is that?”

“It’s a little town, by the fields, a bit away from Tokyo. Lovely place, it has wares from forty years ago or even longer sold dirt cheap.”

Tim, the son, almost knocked over a small statue of a naked european cherub, smiling sheepishly in the background. 

  
  


If something otherworldly put it right back in place, no it didn’t.

  
  
  
  
  


“Well.. I have no problem with that. None at all.” 

“Give me a number to call to, and I’ll let you know when they’re here. It should take three days, at most, because they’re coming here with a bunch of stuff to trade.”

“Of course.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A father and his son left the shop quickly afterwards, chatting like family until three alleyways later, when they finally dropped the act in a quieter, less populated street.

“You managed to place all of them, Maeda?”

Maeda, a twenty eight year old with a particularly youthful face, nodded confidently. “All of them. With us and the others, fucker won’t be able to go two steps without us hearing him.”

He got a grin back from his partner, a half caucasian man who was only two years older, but with a less gifted-for-roleplaying-as-a-kid face.

“Three days, huh. It takes that long to smuggle a kid these days?”

“Apparently so.”

* * *

**From: Info-347@MainOfficeskg.com**

**For: Data@Nanjogroup.com**

**Date: xx/xx/20xx, 18:30**

**[** **_Message under End-to-End Encryption (E2EE)_ ** **]**

RE: RE: CASE FILE #29-WC PROTOCOL-VR FULL COPY

Good evening! We have an additional testimony, made by a creature of classification VR-UK, which I have attached to this message. 

As for the solicitation of reserve members, involvement of shadow neutralization and classification team unit KG-1-2 has been approved of and expected in case of need. As for shadow neutralization and classification team unit MI-4-4A, the offer has been denied.

This email must be replied to in the timeframe of 24 (twenty four) hours since sent.

Informant’s note:

I’m more than pleased to know Helios will be the search coordinator! I, as well as most of my team, have heard excellent things about him. I’m looking forward to this mission to be completed in a timely manner. :)

-Juno (Kirijo Group intelligence division.)

* * *

They had decided to go to bed earlier than usual that night. 

And it had been a quite lovely time, having enough energy to snuggle together before falling asleep. And it would’ve been very satisfying sleep, if it wasn’t for one of their burner phones’ buzzing to life. Squinting in the dark, he pulled it out.

  
  


**23:40**

**[Artemis]:** Chrooooonos. Chronos-kun.

  
  


Alright, it had been a while since he was called  _ that _ .

  
  


**[Artemis]:** Chronos-kkkkkkkkkk uuuuuuun! :D

**[Chronos]:** Hey, Artemis.

  
  
  


Perhaps she had been drinking, but it was still a lovely surprise to hear from her. 

  
  


**[Chronos]:** Excuse me, but I think you may have taken home the wrong phone again. :)

  
  
  
  


After all, it wasn’t as if he was an active member, there was no reason for her to regularly call him like this, even less by that name. She more than knew his real name, after all. 

  
  
  
  


**[Artemis]:** Nope! Not this time. <3

  
  
  
  


It wasn’t a very lovely surprise, then.

  
  


**[Chronos]:** Oh no.

  
  


He.. didn’t like that heart emoji.

  
  


**[Artemis]:** Oh yes!!

  
  


He also didn’t like the implication that he was being recruited once more.

  
  


**[Chronos]:** Fuck no.

**[Chronos]:** I’m sorry for that, but I don’t think this is the best course of action, Artemis. Involving me and Apollo in a mission could make a bigger mess, one unexplainable to major authorities. You know this.

After all,  _ the  _ incident hadn’t been the only time they acted together, for a while having been recruited permanently, till his and his husband’s worries became too great.

  
  


**[Artemis]:** Look. 

**[Artemis]:** You have key information, Chronos-kun.

He hadn’t been involved in anything lately. Not even with his.. shadier, contacts. 

**[Artemis]:** I know it sucks! I know it does. But please, Chronos. It’s for a good cause. Phantom Thief, missing kid, possibly bad persona power usage related stuff.

Oh, no, she had  _ definitely  _ been drinking and was mostly relying on autocorrect.

**[Chronos]:** ..Please elaborate.

**[Artemis]:** Are you free tomorrow? Call me now and we can meet! <3

  
  


He had to take a moment to regain his breath, after the panic that settled in his chest, but dialed anyways.

“Maya-nee.”

“Jun, I’m so sorry I’m bothering you and Tatsuya, but can you two meet me tomorrow at Sumaru Prison? Before it opens.” Her voice sounded a lot more tired than those heart emojis could betray, the slurr of stress induced drinking in her voice, yet not enough for Jun to worry too much. 

  
  


_ Wait. _

He took a moment to process her words outside of his alcohol related worries. 

  
  
  
  


They..

Oh fuck, they were even including  _ Michel  _ into this mess?

“Wait, big sis. Why do you need us exactly? Don’t you all have more than enough members?”

“Remember the kid you told me you were suspicious of?”

“Yes..?” He had yet to get out of his head Akechi’s absolutely  _ lonely _ face, and the tug it had made in his heart.

“Apparently those two  _ know _ each other, the one you’re worried for and the kidnapped one, from what we found out, and we got a report from one of the.. people, that knows him, that he was the kid to lead the whole..  _ Phantom Thieves thing _ .”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


So, to paraphrase, a powerful persona user, with power on a level as high as Maya’s, Tatsuya’s and his, but with fewer experience, and hence could very easily be corrupted by the same thing that had fucked all of them up irreversibly.

  
  
  
  
  


And could possibly go through the  _ heart wrenching trauma  _ he and his friends,  _ especially his husband _ , had gone through. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


God fucking damnit.

Not another one.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Maya-nee, why are you making me worry for more kids? I’m already starting to worry for one against my will.”

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

  
  
  
  
  


“...Yes.”

  
  


“Great! If Tatsuya-kun can come too, that’d be great, but it isn’t necessary!”

“...If I go, you know he’ll go.”

“Exactly! Goodnight! See you tomorrow!”

  
  
  


He hung up, but remained there, thinking about just  _ what exactly _ he had just agreed to. 

  
  
  


The arms around his waist held him a little tighter, as Tatsuya’s head raised from in between their pillows. “Was that Maya? What did she want..?”

He turned towards his husband, an absolutely  _ done  _ expression on his face. “So, we basically just got recruited.”

“...What..”

“Go back to sleep, Tacchi. We’ll. We’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay?”

Despite the exhaustion all over Tatsuya’s face, he sat up properly, bringing Jun to practically being on his lap, and placed a kiss behind his ear, his fingers gently making circles on Jun’s palms, attempting to stop his lover from digging his own nails in his flesh any further and dragging blood. 

“If Maya wants us it’s probably for something important.” Tatsuya mumbled against him, and Jun almost relaxed for a moment, if it wasn’t for the underlying anxiety that came with ever getting somewhat involved, the reason he wanted absolutely nothing to do with personas anymore if he could help it. 

  
  
  


He couldn’t afford losing Tatsuya. Not  _ again _ .

  
  
  
  
  


His eyes swept through their room, a cozy mess that both swore to fix yet never did, beloved items intermingled so much, nothing belonged to only one of them anymore. Pictures on a wall that he never thought were capable of existing, born from a day Tatsuya looked back at him and simply said “ _ I only have eyes for Jun. _ ”

  
  


Back then, he thought Tatsuya was simply avoiding Lisa by saying that.

But then Tatsuya was there for him. Over, and over, a rock to hold on to when everything got too dark. Precious moments that they shared before reality ripped itself, and them, apart.

  
  


Precious moments that they shared once they found each other again, in a train station during Sumaru’s rush hour, a glimpse of recollection that turned them into a sobbing mess as they clung to each other’s arms. The sight of Tatsuya’s rare smile, on him, caused by him, bright like the Sun.

“You know I love you, don’t you?” Jun mumbled in the dark. No, that wasn’t enough.

“I love you more than anything.”

He meant it. Oh God,  _ did he mean it. _

  
  
  
  


Tatsuya replied by gently tilting Jun’s head towards his, and placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

_ I love you too. _

  
  


He knew helping others was important, and Maya didn’t mean her insistence in ill will, she had also been destroyed by a horrible shift in reality.

But he was scared that the horrible promise to Tatsuya would become reality, and that him remembering brought the end of it all. 

Who said they had  _ really _ escaped the curse?

That every time he summoned Chronos, he wasn’t a bit closer to destroying everything he and the love of his life had fought for.

  
  
  
  


And a life without Tatsuya, without those strong arms around him and his awkward little laughter, without his quiet gestures, without his intelligence, his musical skill, his imitation jokes? Without his beautiful voice. 

A life without his equal, his love. 

What the fuck kind of life was that for Jun?

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Maya had said those two kids knew each other.

Lost Akechi,  _ angry  _ Akechi, a child betrayed and battered, hated by society and then loved superficially, a star to many but a hero to none, a child fucked up by that fucking conservative asshole.

And a kid with so much power yet no experience, young and probably reckless.

  
  


Maya had said those two kids  _ knew  _ each other.

  
  
  
  


Perhaps.

  
  
  


Perhaps he was going to take the mission. Despite his fear of losing the man that made all his mornings brighter.

  
  
  
  
  
  


If he could give those two kids a chance to love..

He would do it.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


At least be there for Akechi.

He certainly needed a better adult figure in his life than the ones Tatsuya had told him of when he had checked the kid’s file.

  
  
  


“You’re thinking too loud.” Tatsuya gently nudged him, and he was about to say something else, but as much as Jun appreciated his voice, he just wanted to kiss him deep enough for the warm imprint to never,  _ ever _ , leave his soul.

  
  
  


**Not again.**

In the morning, they would talk about it a little better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next:
> 
> :)


	17. chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new player joins Inaba's team.
> 
> TW for homophobia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Rollerskates into frame* Hi there!!!! Happy New Year!!! How's 2021 treating everyone?
> 
> I hope everyone is well, and staying safe!
> 
> There's a lot happening this chapter!!!! Isn't that neat?  
> Keep your eyes open for something that is coming in a few days related to this fic's universe btw!! A little something I've wanted to write for a while. 
> 
> As always, I must thank you all for the kudos, the comments, everything. 
> 
> And without much more preamble, here is chapter 17!
> 
> Again!! TW FOR HOMOPHOBIA!

**_Worry_ **

_/ˈwʌri/_

  1. Feel or cause to feel anxious or troubled about actual or potential problems.



  1. The current mess in Futaba and Yusuke’s minds.



Synonyms: _Fret, agonize, broo-_ **_Where the fuck was Akira Kurusu._ **

As Futaba’s fingers flew over her keyboard, anxiety egging her on, Yusuke remained mostly silent, scribbling his own manic little notes. 

They had discovered something incredibly worrying in Akira’s last audio feed.

A scream. 

Well, three screams. 

  * Akira’s, which sounded _very suspiciously_ like a “LET ME G-”



  * Morgana’s, a desperate yelp.



  * A girl’s, probably Akira’s friend, who seemed to have fallen behind, screaming something that VERY oddly, sounded like the word-



  
  
  


**_Persona._ **

  
  


Now, Futaba could be dense with her feelings and the astract machinations of the human heart, but she certainly wasn't dumb, and so far she had yet to hear strange voices in her head outside of the few murmurs from her persona back when she still had one. 

That feed? That had definitely been a struggle.

She scrambled to find further information after that, but the microphone was weak, the camera obscured, and what she and Yusuke could hear only sounded like gibberish. After that, somehow Akira’s phone had ended up utterly blocked.

_But boy, she wasn’t gonna give up._

With a determined flex of her fingers, Futaba began moving once more, doing her best to check all connections, restarting everything, anything that could possibly bring her roots on the device back to life.

They were definitely going to buy Akira a better phone after this. Commands through gestures only brought trouble.

  
  
  
  


Yusuke’s pencil drifted all over the paper.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“I’m reconsidering the role anxiety plays in creating good art.”

“Yeah?” She didn’t take her eyes off of her screens.

“It doesn’t play a good role.”

She would’ve laughed, if it wasn’t for the anxiety coating all her actions. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


About two hours later, they managed to hear something clearer than just static, as the phone had been activated. Futaba sighed in half relief, half worry, and Yusuke looked up from his work, a deep frown set all over his features. 

  
  


She wasted no time setting up everything, trying to record as much audio as she could, while she tried, to no avail yet, to get the frontal camera’s feed. But she was Alibaba, for fuck’s sake.

  
  


She could do this. 

  
  
  


And even if she couldn’t, for Akira? She _would._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


At first, all they could hear was static.

  
  
  


Then fabric ruffling. 

  
  
  
  


And finally, voices. 

  
  
  


She grinned in victory, and began to record while she continued her attempts on accessing the camera.

“Okay, so, apparently they found the car.” A soft, soothing male voice said.

“They did?! That quick?!” Added a more jarringly loud one. 

“Well, they _are_ Nanjo, after all.” That voice sounded surprisingly stern.

_Nanjo?_

_("Yusuke, write something down."_

_"Anything."_

_"Nanjo. We'll look it up later, don't use wifi right now.")_

  
  
  
  


“So what, we useless or something now?” The growl on that one made Futaba flinch lightly.

“They're just more experienced than us, Kan-chan." A softer, more femenine voice said. 

  
  
  
  


_Kan-chan, huh._

  
  


Apparently Nanjo was a collective. She didn’t ask Yusuke to write that part down, but put a pin about it in her mind. 

The difference in voices let her know this was a group, and the constant flickering could only be caused by movement. So, they were going somewhere, apparently. Akira hadn’t sent her pictures of the group, and she hadn’t spied on them until now, so she had no idea what they looked like, but at least she assumed Japanese, and that they were a quite large group.

Hey, everything started somewhere! Even shady spying.

  
  
  


There was the ruffle of fabric, the phone probably put in a pocket, and then-

“Okay, Morgana, you coming with us?”

“Of course! You’ll need my Akira expertise here!”

“...Morgana?” Yusuke’s voice broke through the static filled room, his eyebrows even wider, but with enough reflexes to catch the bag of chips Futaba had been compulsively snacking on and preventing it from falling. She had gone a little rigid, shaking slightly as the contents inside her head shifted into only one (1) thought.

  
  


_Akira was missing._

  
  


**_Akira was fucking missing._ **

  
  
  


_And his friends were desperately looking for him? With some people called Nanjo? And Morgana knew about it?! AND HADN’T TOLD HER?!_

“From what we know, it seems the car is moving towards Sumaru City.” 

She almost dropped the half eaten chip from her mouth into the floor. 

Okay, so this wasn’t a speculative situation, but an actual hostage one. _Oh fuck._

She turned to Yusuke, who looked just as shocked. “Inari, dude, write the name of the city. I’ll- I’ll text these guys later.”

_She had_ **_questions._ **

But for now the most she could do was listen to what was going on and wait until she had as much information as possible. A few name drops and the name of a city wasn’t enough. So far she had entered the situation assuming the worst about these people, that they had hurt Akira, but so far what she had heard said something different, and if Morgana trusted them?

If Morgana trusted them, so would she. 

(After asking them how the fuck they hadn’t protected Akira from the people that had kidnapped him, since they seemed a large group. Had they left him alone?! To fend for himself?!)

  
  


“I- I want to save Akira, but. The Inn..?” A female voice said, sounding slightly lost. 

“Princess, we can close for a few days. And if your parents are so desperate, let them run it themselves! I, at least, am going there. If you want to stay, stay. But I won’t.”

There was silence, and the ruffling of fabric as a response. 

“I’m going to tell Dojima I’m leaving, and at five we meet again here to leave for Sumaru. If anyone doesn’t show up, I’ll assume they aren’t coming unless they text me, okay?” There was authority in that voice, as he didn’t get any complaint back, simply confirmations that they had heard and understood.

For now, Futaba had heard more than enough, as after that the group separated. Luckily, the phone had remained with the person that was with Morgana, judging by his ranting about the difference between high and low quality sushi, a rant that was surprisingly attentively listened to.

She kept recording, just in case, and turned to Yusuke.

“Inari?”

Yusuke was devouring the chips, way more focused on them than Futaba had _ever_ seen him before. 

“Call the thieves. Akira’s missing.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, quickly scrambling to type out a proper sounding message, to let the other former Thieves that _no_ , this wasn’t a joke.

In less than ten minutes, the chat blew up.

* * *

The station was surprisingly busy when they walked in. 

  
  
  
  


People were moving in and out at a rapid pace, policemen whispering to themselves and trying their best not to look as annoyed as they were. At the sight of their familiar faces, a few smiled, but quickly soured and made hand gestures for him and his boyfriend to leave _now, immediately._

  
  


That.. wasn’t a good sign. 

  
  


But he didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye, so he awkwardly waved hello and shrugged, through gestures asking where his uncle was.

  
  
  
  


That, made the policemen even more anxious. One of them grimaced, his bushy mustache looking just as, if not even more, displeased as the rest of his face as he pointed towards Dojima’s office. 

  
  


Yu just nodded, and walked in anyways.

  
  
  


Yosuke walked alongside him as they made their way to said office, raising a curious eyebrow at the mess that welcomed them, the usually quiet station now seemingly having been turned upside down. “Uh, partner? Did a murder happen while we were gone or..?”

  
  
  
  
  


Under the artificial lighting, Yosuke’s exhaustion could be easily discerned, eyes close to glossy and sunken, dark rings under them. He did his best to mask it, standing tall and walking with as much faked energy as possible, but the little, barely noticeable jitters he made when they stood outside the office’s door for too long made it very clear he was trying his best to stay awake. And how could Yu blame him? Any incident like this was absolutely distressing, even more so when nobody was exactly sure of what was happening, or why it had happened on the first place.

  
  
  
  


It..

  
  


It brought memories.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The first thing Yu noticed, even before being anywhere near knocking on the door, was the yelling. Loud and shrill, it made him wince and suddenly understand very, _very_ well why the officers had told him and Yosuke to leave the place.

  
  


Sure, the forces were absolutely corrupt, but Dojima wasn’t a horrible man, so Yu knew certainly he was doing his best in whatever case had been put in his hands. 

  
  
  


Still, the screaming was kind of worrying. 

  
  


He knocked on the door anyways. 

They were tight on time: they still had to pack their bags, they had to pick up from school and spend some time with Nanako as they hadn’t been able to fulfill their promise the day before like the bad big brothers they were (Yosuke having been officially titled ‘big bro number two’ after a particular shopping trip in Tokyo), then say goodbye to her, they had to pick Teddie up from Shirakawa’s lab, meet the others, and get on the road as soon as half past five if they wanted to get to Sumaru City and meet with Helios and his team at seven pm, who preferred things being done early instead of late. 

…

_Even thinking that list was exhausting._

  
  
  


But, every minute counted. 

So when an exhausted Dojima called for them to walk in they didn’t think of it twice, but they really should’ve, because the moment they looked at the inside of the office they found themselves face to face with the _Kurusus_ glaring daggers at them.

  
  
  
  


_Oh no._

  
  
  
  
  
  


_Oh,_ **_no._ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Yu didn’t even have time to attempt to greet the couple, because as soon as he attempted to say anything he was quickly silenced by Akira’s mother, whose eyes had turned into flames. 

**_“YOU.”_ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Oh no._

  
  
  
  


Her anger set the room ablaze as she stormed towards Yu, taking a handful of his coat and yanking him violently towards her, bringing him down so his face was closer to her and she could scream at him more effectively. Behind her was Akira’s father, whose own anguish and anger felt slightly ironic, but nonetheless was still threatening.

**_“WHERE THE FUCK IS MY SON, YOU DEGENERATE!”_ **The scream could easily be heard through the entire station as she got closer to Yu’s face, making him wince and stand there, not exactly sure how to proceed in a way that wouldn’t make things escalate. 

Yosuke wasted no time, however, to try and separate them, his own anger quickly sparking up as well. 

“Hey hey **hey,** get your hands off of him!” He got in between the two of them, quickly, and as gently as possible to not make things escalate in the worst possible way, pushing the angry woman away. 

She didn’t take this lightly however, quickly moving away from Yosuke with a look of disgust and charging back towards Yu once more, which this time he dodged, stepping aside. 

“Kurusu-san.” Dojima warned, having stood up from his chair.

“NO. NO, NO. YOU DON’T YOU ‘KURUSU-SAN’ ME. MY SON TOLD ME HE WAS GOING TO MEET THIS _FREAK_ , AND HE NEVER CAME BACK. WHERE DO YOU HAVE HIM, HUH?” Yu put his hands forwards to stop her from charging once more, Yosuke grabbing her shoulder to keep her in place, something that sadly didn’t go well, as Akira’s father stepped in to rip Yosuke’s hand away from his wife. 

He turned towards Dojima, anger written all over his features. “You’re letting these two _child predators_ into our community just like that?” 

  
  


While he didn’t raise his voice, unlike his wife, his commentary somehow felt more cutting. 

  
  


“Let them explain themselves. Kurusu-san, please unhand the young man.” Dojima seemed exhausted with the pair at this point, so Yu wondered just for how long he'd had to deal with them before Yosuke and him walked in.

  
  


As she moved her hands away, Yu noted her nails were particularly sharp.

  
  


“You’re still calling _it_ a young man?! After it made my son disappear?! He didn’t come home! OUR AKIRA ALWAYS COMES HOME.” 

  
  
  
  
  


The hypocrisy of that statement rang through the room for a moment, as Yu, Yosuke and Dojima looked at each other and tried their best not to bitterly laugh.

  
  
  
  


_Now,_ **_that_ ** _was something._

  
  
  
  
  


“Kurusu-san. If you could please sit down once more, we could talk this over. I’m sure your son is fine.”

  
  
  
  


This time, Yu and Yosuke looked at each other, in a lot less jest. 

  
  
  


_The idea was to involve no cops whatsoever._

  
  
  


_Not even Dojima?_

  
  
  


_Especially Dojima, partner._

_So what are we supposed to say?_

  
  
  


Yu blinked. 

Yosuke blinked back.

  
  
  
  


“I can’t believe people like you, who are supposed to have some kind of, I don’t know, _authority,_ still let people like these two still be part of this community.” The woman said as she finally sat down, running a hand through her face, slightly smudging the makeup on her face. Her husband remained standing, putting his hands protectively over her shoulders, ice cold gaze over Yu and Yosuke’s every move. 

Yu blinked a couple of times, still a little mortified from everything that was happening all at once, but not enough for it to stop him from talking, at least not for the current moment. “Look, Kurusu-san,”

“Talk to the officer.” She swiftly cut anything he was going to say.

“Uh.. well,” Yu turned towards Dojima, his hand seeking Yosuke’s and grabbing it, both to make the woman more uncomfortable and to soothe himself. Yosuke quickly squeezed his hand, sending a glare to the other couple in the room. “Officer Dojima-san. Sir. Akira-san, we saw him on Friday afternoon. We went to the Chinese restaurant together, me, him,” Yu nodded his head towards Yosuke, “Six more friends, and Akira-san. After that, we separated. Please, ask the people who manage the restaurant. They can testify they saw us.” His voice was levelled, confident. 

  
  


_That.. well, that was pretty accurate, wasn’t it?_

  
  


Dojima didn’t even question him. He simply nodded. “Thank you, Narukami-san. I’ll check with the restaurant’s staff, to make sure your claim is genuine.”

  
  
  
  
  


There wasn’t a single trace of suspicion in his voice.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_And that.. that stung slightly._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


But it was necessary.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The other couple looked at each other, appalled. “Just like that? You’ll take that _thing’s_ word and that’s it?!”

“Kurusu-san. If you call Narukami-san anything else other than his name one more time, I’ll have to ask you to leave. I already took all the data we needed to open a file on your son’s disappearance. All we need now, is to be able to work.”

Instead of worrying about her son, she actually stood up.

  
  
  
  
  


That.. that said a lot. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Once the door had been slammed shut, Yu, Yosuke and Dojima stared at each other.

_Well, hadn’t that been something._

“Isn’t Akira Kurusu the kid that got sent to Tokyo for a year?” Dojima said once he sat back down and relaxed slightly, letting the other two sit down as well. He lit a cigarette and took a long drag, taking advantage that the modest window was open enough for the smoke to not form an uncomfortable hotbox.

“Yes, he’s that kid.” Yu nodded, still not letting go of Yosuke’s hand. 

“Huh. So his parents send a sixteen year old to another city for a whole year, and expect the kid not to fuck off at first moment’s notice once they drag him back.”

“Well, as I said before, we saw him at the restaurant-”

“Yu. I know it wasn’t you. I know you. And I trust you. You wouldn’t do that to a kid, you demonstrated that long ago.” He shook his head. “The kid probably tried getting back to Tokyo or something. We’ll search for him, but don’t worry. I know it wasn’t either of you.”

  
  
  
  
  


The faith placed on both Yosuke and himself felt a little daunting. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A little crushing, even.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Okay, uncle.”

  
  
  
  


“Now.” He took another drag of his cigarette, smoke curling on itself before dispersing inside the room, some escaping out the window. “What the hell are you doing here? Not that I mind seeing either of you, but you two aren’t going around the station all the time.”

“We came to say goodbye, actually.” Yosuke piped in.

“Huh? Already? Weren’t you kids staying a few more months?”

“We are leaving for a few days, uncle, then we’ll be back. Something came up.”

The casually raised eyebrow both got as a response was a good sign. 

“Work related?”

“Basically.” Yu accentuated the issue with a casual shrug, to mask the way his hand trembled slightly. _Fuck, he hated lying to Dojima._

  
  
  


And he feared having to continue doing it.

  
  
  


But it seemed the man understood. “You know when you’ll be back?”

“Not really.” At least there he could be honest.

* * *

**From: Legal@Nanjogroup.com**

**For: Data@Nanjogroup.com**

**Date: xx/xx/20xx 13:55**

**[** **_Message under End-to-End Encryption (E2EE)_ ** **]**

AUTHORIZATION SNCDD KG-1-2

  
  
  


As of today, xx/xx/20xx, 13:52 JST, Shadow Neutralization and Classification team unit KG-1-2 has been authorized for the use of destructive oriented neutralization. Legal measures and preventions have been activated. SS++ methods have been authorized. Cleanup team has been assembled, which will cooperate with the unit’s orders. 

Unit details:

[UNIT HAS PASSED THE BIANUAL PHYSICAL AND MENTAL TEST SUCCESSFULLY]

KG-1: Common name “Apollo”. WC use authorized. Destructive methods up to SS++ authorized.

KG-2: Common name “Chronos”. WC use authorized. Destructive methods up to SS++ authorized. Use of toxic substances class A authorized.

  
  


IMPORTANT: This authorization is valid until the mission is complete. 

-Nanjo Legal Team

* * *

“I hate that you’re tied down to that job.” Was what Nanako said as she hugged Yu tightly, her long chestnut hair cascading between them, a sweet barrier from the outside world. He kept her close and gently rocked them, trying not to let her be too aware of his nerves. 

He knew she could feel them anyways, reflected on the tremble in her voice.

“Can’t- can’t you just retire? Or- I don’t know, have someone else do it!” 

Behind them stood Yosuke, who had to take a couple of seconds to answer. 

“No, Nanako-chan. We can’t.”

  
  
  


As she pulled away from Yu, she tried her best to not let her face contort and break down in tiny pieces.

“Please, _please,_ tell me when you’re coming back and it’s all done. Please. I won’t be calm until you do. I, I won’t tell dad if you don’t want me to, just, please big bro. Give me that peace of mind.”

She rubbed her face on her fluffy pink sleeve, the knit sweater absorbing any possible tears as she moved to cling to Yosuke. 

“We’ll keep you updated, Nanako. We promise.”

When she let go of the both of them, she tried to put on her sweetest smile, despite the tremble in her lower lip, and the way her dark eyes seemed made out of glass, long eyelashes hiding crystals amongst them.

“Oh, big bro? Before I forget.”

“Yes?”

“If you see her? Tell Kirijo I fucking hate her.”

_Now_ **_that_ ** _was a rare word out of Nanako’s mouth._

“Nanako!” Yu tried his best to scold her, but all that came out of his mouth was a small laugh.

“What! It’s the truth!”

“Oh man, I forget you’re fifteen years old sometimes.” Yosuke was trying his best not to grin at her eloquent protest, but the way she had phrased it had broken its seriousness just the slightest bit.

It made Nanako smile genuinely as well, rolling her eyes as she gestured at them both to leave. “Keep me posted, please. Don’t make me cry. Go, and come back in one piece. Please.”

“We love you.” 

“I know you do. I love you too. Now please, before I start crying. Please go.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


To nobody’s surprise, the entire team showed up to go to Sumaru, the meeting place having been accorded as Shirakawa’s lab, where they had to pick Teddie up. Even Yukiko, who had seemed doubtful, carried herself with confidence as she walked towards the others, Morgana on her bag, Chie right behind her furiously tapping on her phone. 

“Guys! You made it!” Yosuke’s smile was utterly pleased. 

“Yup! It took us a bit of last minute planning, but we managed to pull it off!” Chie didn’t tear her eyes away from her phone as she talked. “Aaaaand I’m cancelling class with my students this week, and it should be all done!”

Morgana’s head peeked from Yukiko’s baby pink bag, anxious blue eyes looking around, rapidly going from one person to the next, despite his attempts for his voice to remain sounding calm. “Well, are we going now?”

“We are.”

The sigh of relief from Morgana probably wasn’t meant to be audible, but it was, earning a couple of tired smiles.

As Yu and Yosuke walked inside, the rest of the group waited for Teddie in front of the inconspicuous house, a property looking absolutely no different from all the others in the area except for the heightened security at the entrance. 

In the midst of said wait, there was some ruffle of bags and movement of items, mostly personal belongings that had been misplaced in Yukiko’s house, before they had all gone their own way for the day to attempt to live a life as normal as possible-- so as to not raise too many suspicions as to what exactly the group was up to.

  
  


_They didn’t need extra eyes, precisely._

  
  
  
  


“Naoto, here.” Yukiko quickly gave Akira’s phone to them, in between other things she was giving back to the others. “It’s fully charged and cleaned.”

Naoto’s scowl deepened, taking the phone back from Yukiko. They were about to begin their attempts once more to unlock it, only to find themselves staring at something completely unexpected.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A grey screen containing a chat bubble, aggressively blocking any attempts from moving it out of the way.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_That-_

  
  


_that was new._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**17:15**

**[???]:** Stop attempting to break into Akira’s privacy, and give the phone to the cat. You have absolutely no right to be snooping in his personal life. 

  
  


When they attempted to move the bubble away and close it, they got yet another message.

  
  


**[???]:** Give the phone to the cat. **Now.** I know he’s with you. 

  
  
  
  
  


The hostile tone didn’t threaten Naoto, they had seen far, far worse, but what surprised them was the request for the _cat,_ Morgana, to get the phone. 

  
  
  
  
  


_Was this one of Akira’s friends contacting them, perhaps? A Phantom Thief, maybe?_

  
  
  


_A persona user?_

  
  


“Morgana, you have seen Akira’s phone.” 

“I have!” Immediately, Naoto tilted the screen for him to see the chat bubble. 

Instead of worry, Morgana immediately perked up. “Oh I- Fu- I mean, I know who this is! It’s one of Akira’s friends, don’t worry.”

That cleared some things up. 

  
  
  
  


But not exactly how this friend of Akira’s knew the group was with Morgana. 

Naoto stared as said cat began rapidly talking to the phone, and getting a flurry of text messages as replies, which instantly deleted themselves once Morgana replied to them.

  
  


They raised their eyebrows in quick realization. 

**_The phone was bugged._ **

  
  
  


_That.. their group had had a lot of personal conversations during the night and in the morning, while Naoto tried to unlock the phone._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They really hoped this person was trustworthy. 

  
  
  
  
  


They continued holding the phone for Morgana, taking in the conversation at the same time as Yukiko, soon joined by the rest of the group that hadn’t gone inside to sign a few papers regarding Teddie. 

“I’m okay, Fu- I mean, you-”

  
  
  


**[???] Has changed their name to [Alibaba]**

**[Alibaba]:** There, Morgana. You can call me that.

“Oh! Great. Seriously Alibaba, I’m alright. They’ve given me more tuna than I’ve ever dreamed of.”

**[Alibaba]:** Hm. Good. You told me you lost a few whiskers for a bit?

“Yeah. Probably from the fall, I’m not sure.” Morgana turned upwards, to look at Yukiko, who had healed him. 

Giving the phone a gentle smile in case the camera was bugged as well, Yukiko piped in. “Alibaba-san, it is a pleasure. My name is Yukiko Amagi, owner of the Amagi Inn here in Inaba. Morgana did lose three whiskers, but so far he seems to be okay, right?”

“Yup! Good as new.”

  
  


Naoto glared at her after giving so much information out freely.

  
  
  
  


**[Alibaba]:** Not sure if the pleasure is mine yet. 

**[Alibaba]:** But I see you’ve treated my friend well. 

**[Alibaba]:** Despite what happened to my other friend.

**[Alibaba]:** Now I want you all to tell me honestly, and clearly.

**[Alibaba]:** Where is Akira Kurusu?

  
  
  
  


Before Yukiko could say anything, Rise, who had remained silent up to that point, stepped in. 

She was dressed nothing like the day before, instead her hair was tied up in a simple bun, and she had chosen her most modest coat, an attempt to not look so utterly _noticeable_ amongst the others, and hence not bringing too much extra attention to their little group.

She looked absolutely exhausted, but she remained with a determined voice, trying to not seem as fragile as she was at that moment.

  
  


“Hello, Alibaba-san. I, my name is Kujikawa.”

  
  


Her voice got a faster response than any other. 

  
  


**[Alibaba]:** You.

**[Alibaba]:** You were with Akira.

  
  


“I was. I, I don’t know who took him. But basically, we’ll find out more in a while. If you’d like, you can come, uh, virtually? With us. We’re trying our best to find him.”

Kanji and Naoto looked at each other for a second, tense conversation going through them before they turned to look at Rise.

**[Alibaba]:** Was pausing to get lunch necessary to your rescue mission? You could’ve been searching for him in those hours you wasted.

“Alibaba. Hey. We’re tired as hell, and needed to eat.” Morgana cut in, slight anger in his voice. “I know you’re worried, I am too, but you don’t need to threaten them, they’re good people.”

**[Alibaba]:** I want him back, Morgana. I can’t deal with this again.

“Me too. But we’re trying our best, okay? And we’ll find him. We already have a lead, and we’re working with a bunch of per-”

The others quickly shook their heads, attempting to shut Morgana up, but he continued nonetheless, dodging their hands and sighing. “Hey, hey! I know who this is, okay? Alibaba is trustworthy, and a user too! Don’t worry!”

  
  
  
  


That made them lower their hands. Well, except for Chie, who kept them slightly raised just in case.

  
  
  
  
  


Naoto’s eyes widened in a realization that needed no explanation to the others, who seemed to come, each at their own specific thought speed, to the same conclusion. Alibaba included.

  
  
  
  
  


**[Alibaba]:** wait what

**[Alibaba]:** so i heard it right

**[Alibaba]:** u guys are persona users

  
  
  


The change in texting manners was surprising, but Morgana didn’t seem affected. “Yup! They’re a bunch of persona users.”

  
  


**[Alibaba]:** wait wait

**[Alibaba]:** im also a persona user holy **_FUCK_ **

  
  


“Yes, and we know Akira is one as well.” The way Yukiko’s eyes lit up in warm excitement said it all, as the group shared a collective glance amongst them all, the news of another persona user always a welcome, 

  
  
  
  
  
  


_yet incredibly worrying,_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


thing to witness. 

  
  
  
  


**[Alibaba]:** holy shit why didnt i code this to support images

**[Alibaba]:** id send so many memes rn

**[Alibaba]:** holy shit is this what akira felt like damn

  
  


Morgana let out a loud laugh at that, his own excitement lacking the weariness of a permanent persona user, blue eyes shining for the first time since Akira’s disappearance.

“See? I told you I’m in good hands!”

“We are trying our best, Alibaba-san. Your friend will be back alive and safe.”

**[Alibaba]:** im particularly interested in the alive part

**[Alibaba]:** but just because you guys are some sweet former persona users that doesnt mean i wont be watching u

  
  


_Former..?- Oh._

  
  
  


**[Alibaba]:** i will.

**[Alibaba]:** i want akira back. alive and safe. and i want to help.

**[Alibaba]:** however i can. 

  
  
  


“Alibaba-san, I think we already have enough help?” Rise let out an awkward chuckle.

  
  


**[Alibaba]:** i dont think u guys understand how fucking important akira is to me

“We understand that, Alibaba-san. We do! We really do. But there isn’t much you can do to help us. Our team is already big, more than enough to catch whoever has Akira-kun!” Her sweet voice attempted to be soothing, despite the way her bun attempted to collapse and fall all over her face, to bring further darkness to the shadows of her face.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


For a moment, the screen remained grey.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**[Alibaba]:** fine

**[Alibaba]:** ill concede and wait

**[Alibaba]:** but the moment i see you're not doing jack shit to help my brother

**[Alibaba]:** im going to fucking sumaru city and kicking your asses.

**[Alibaba]:** consider me a part of your team now. cause im not going anywhere.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When Yu, Yosuke and Teddie stepped out of the building, they curiously stared at the others that had huddled up all around Akira’s phone.

“Uh, guys? Did we miss anything?”

Rise’s grin wasn’t exactly from pure amusement. “So! We have a new teammate!”

* * *

Sunday appeared without much fanfare.

Inside Sumaru Prison’s empty space, with the neon lights turned off and everything to be polished to perfection, five adults sat together, listening intently to the oldest of the bunch, her soft voice filling the space around them and informing them of the mission that was to be accomplished. 

  * **Why was this important? Akira Kurusu was a notably powerful wildcard, sure, but over all, he was a kid that had been yanked away from his friends and his life, probably by the same forces all active persona users had to deal with. Apparently he had ties to the former head of the People’s Security Party, Masayoshi Shido, as the man had ruined his life and gotten him arrested for charges that, seemingly, weren’t even true in the first place.**



“So this man isn’t just a menace to the bureaucratic?” Tatsuya asked, raising his eyebrows as he leaned against Jun, who nodded along silently. 

  * **Why were they needed? Jun and Tatsuya, together, were efficient and _deadly._ Eikichi and Lisa could offer their services only as out of field backups, not because they weren’t powerful, as they were, but their positions of notoriety could easily make them be spotted in places where they weren’t supposed to be.**



“The downsides of being a sensation, baby!” Eikichi grinned, shrugging his shoulders in a show of false modesty. He had fought hard to get where he currently was, _damnit,_ he was allowed to be proud of it.

  * **Was there any possibility of any of them not coming back alive? Probably not, if they went well armed and ready.**



  * **What exactly were they dealing with? Most likely messy politics. The people back at Nanjo weren’t entirely sure of what was going on, but from the last heists they’ve had to pull off, everything pointed to this being a new attempt from the PSP to get their hands on persona powers. Again.**



Put like that, in quick and easy to digest terms, Jun didn’t feel so nervous about it. Sure, it could still go horribly wrong, but it was going to be alright. 

_He was going to make sure of it._

  
  
  
  


The ropes that forever tied Tatsuya and him down tensed up slightly.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Kept them forever away from a normal life. 

  
  
  
  


_Trapped._

  
  
  
  
  
  


For a moment, Jun thought of what he was about to ask. The implications of grabbing the rope and tying someone new. 

  
  


_But at least he would know who tied the knots._

_They could be comfy, with enough room to breathe and have fun at times._

_With a group of people to help him out._

  
  
  
  


It was better _he_ tied the knots, rather than anybody else that was dying to try. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


He raised his hand casually, when Maya had finished giving her explanation. “Maya-nee, could it be possible that I brought someone along?”

  
  
  


Tatsuya turned towards him, an amused expression on his face. “You literally talked to the kid once, valentine.” He pointed out.

_No, he wasn’t pulling out the cutesy nickname now._

_(At least, it was a way to break the way his thoughts had steered towards things that didn’t need to be reminded.)_

  
  
  


Jun’s stare could dig daggers onto Tatsuya, who in turn looked even more amused. “It is a risk, that I won’t deny, and I really don’t trust the kid. But, please listen to my reasoning.”

“We’re listening.” Maya gestured at everyone, her smile sweet but her eyes calculating, true to her title of supervisor. 

Despite having drunk the night before she looked put together, a thing that was needed from her no matter the job she was currently participating in.

  
  


Jun, having the word for the time being, quickly proposed what he meant. “ _Tacchi_ and I looked into the kid, and we know for sure he had ties with Masayoshi Shido. We have our reasons to believe these ties are no longer a threat, as. Well, one doesn’t fake their own disappearance for nothing,” Tatsuya nodded along and grabbed Jun’s hand, seemingly pleased with the use of his cutesy nickname. “and he actually seems to be on the run constantly. As for ties to the Phantom Thieves incident, he seems to have a couple.”

  
  


“It was a mistake from us not getting involved, but by the time we were aware of it, we couldn’t do much except sit and wait.” Maya added.

  
  


“Well. Knowing that, and knowing he has ties to the current victim, I believe taking him to this mission could prove both dangerous and useful. Persona powers are something actively sought after, and while I don’t plan on becoming a permanent member anytime soon, if a kid needs to be contained, I trust you, Maya-nee, to be able to guide him and not let him fall again in bad hands.”

Eikichi, who wasn’t his betraying husband who used his cutesy nickname in fucking public, nodded along. “Hey, why not! Isn’t the kid crazy powerful too?”

“Exactly. Containing him as soon as possible and directing him towards us before anybody else gets to him again seems like a great idea.” Maya seemed pleased with Jun’s reasoning, a happy grin stretching on her features. “So I assume you guys are in?”

  
  
  
  
  


Tatsuya looked at Jun, and subtly squeezed his hand.

  
  


_I’m in. Are you?_

  
  


He squeezed back.

  
  


_I am._

  
  
  
  
  


“Yes.” Both said, almost at the same time, laughing when they repeated themselves and managed to say it in unison, Jun hiding his face on Tatsuya’s shoulder. 

  
  


A picture that hadn’t been seen in a long while. 

  
  
  


Lisa looked at the both of them, and subtly tilted her head, a small smile on her face. “We missed you in the team, guys.”

  
  
  
  
  


The dust particles that accumulated on the air looked like small stars, bright and sharp.

  
  
  
  


Cutting.

  
  
  


Maya’s smile was as bright as sunlight itself. “We did! We really did. You and your soulmate mushiness.”

“Extreme mushiness! C’mon, have some mercy on the single people!” Lisa let out a little laugh. “Haven’t we suffered enough?” 

“Lisa, you’re the only single one here.” Jun teased her.

That earned a gasp in mock offense.

“It’s called being in the _market,_ Jun-kun.” She spat out without malice, simply to rehash her role as his rival she’d had once, a long time ago.

  
  
  


But lately, that role came with a little twist.

Perhaps when one was always so close to losing everything they’ve had fought hard for, there wasn’t that much time for rivalries. 

  
  
  


“It’s called being so gorgeous you blind every man around you, right Tatsuya?”

Tatsuya gave her a firm nod. “The most blinding woman I’ve ever met. Outside of Maya.”

That earned a loud laugh from the blonde woman, who brought a hand to her chest, cockily shaking her head. “Of course! Thank you, 情人.”

“Hm, I can see her just fine. Even her ugly wrinkles.” Michel had to say, only to earn a slap on the back of his head by Lisa, who was trying her best to look offended, but couldn’t help her laughter from filtering. “Shut up, 煩哪! You couldn’t see beauty even if it spat on your face!”

“Excuse me, both Miyabi and I are beautiful.” 

“Miyabi pities you, that’s what’s going on!”

  
  
  


Maya couldn’t stop laughing, having to hide most of her face behind her hands to try and stop the giggles at seeing the two successful stars going back and forth in a conversation that soon turned about what even _is_ the concept of beauty. 

  
  
  


“But Plato said-”

“I don’t care what Plato said!”

“You don’t have symmetry on your face, Ginko!”

“唔可以. You did not just say that! Eikichi, say you didn’t mean it!”

“I do believe Lisa has a very symmetrical face, Michel.”

“See? Jun sees it! And he’s gay! He has no reason to lie about it!”

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Okay, everyone!” Michel raised his hands as a way to snap them all back into the more serious conversation, pressing one of them on Lisa’s cheek, who was about to ‘slap’ him again. “So, Jun and Tatsu are going out. Both in the literal and the metaphorical.” He seemed obviously proud of his own joke, which was appropriately chuckled at, but the tone, in its most whiplash inducing sense, turned right back into serious as Michel’s face lost that grin and turned colder. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A lot colder.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Lisa, having understood what was going on, sat back on her place, once more the beautiful, _dangerous_ woman she could be, her features turning from her demeanor of before to the professional she was, blue eyes turning ice cold.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Do you need anything?” Michel asked.

  
  


Even his register turned deeper.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


There was silence for a moment, as soft round borders turned into sharp edges, and the five of them lost the childish charm. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They were grown adults, after all, getting ready to do their _job._

  
  
  


“I still have a few.” Jun muttered, always slightly impressed with the way Eikichi’s behavior turned when he wasn’t in the public eye or joking with his friends.

Michel nodded. “Anything new, anything to be replaced?” He sat back, one leg over the other, suddenly taking a lot more space than before, his head turned slightly back, eyes sharper than ever before.

  
  


“We’re not gonna make you waste money, Michel.”

He raised a cocky eyebrow at that. “My friends’ lives are worth the money. And besides, you think I’m tight in expenses or something? No me vengan con esa estupidez.”

Tatsuya raised his hands in surrender. “We don’t want to force you to do anything.”

“You aren’t forcing me. None of you.” Michel tried to emphasize it with his hands, the gesture less Japanese and more betraying of his many travels amongst other cultures. “If you need anything, I’ll get it for you. I don’t want any of you near the shitty arsenal.”

Jun turned towards his husband, hesitation all over his face on asking Michel for those things. It always felt like he somehow was taking advantage of his friend. Sure, they always got paid for these missions, but Michel never accepted a dime from them, always assuring them that it was a gift he was offering. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


For a moment, there was a silent conversation.

  
  
  
  
  
  


And a choice.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Tatsuya was the one to make the leap, a lot less reserved after so much suffering. 

If his friends could help him and his husband? He would accept it, and not commit the mistakes of his youth. 

“We.. may need some new things, mostly ammunition. But nothing major.”

“See? That’s more like it, baby!” He grinned in triumph, pulling out his phone. “What exactly are we talking about here?”

* * *

"Oh. Another one, huh." There was a mocking smile on his lips. "Second one this month. You're gonna make me feel popular at this pace."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


There was nothing more unsettling than the calm of the deranged. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Even with a gun at his hip, he felt slightly nervous the moment he sat down, but still tried to keep his composure.

  
  
  


One didn't start trembling in front of a lion, after all. 

  
  
  


He sat down in front of the deranged creature, mockery of a man, and smirked. "I didn't come for an interview."

The guard on his side remained silent, but in close proximity, in case this whole attempt at gaining ground went horribly wrong. 

"Then you came to waste my time?" He leaned back against his chair, crossing one leg over the other. 

"I came to give you an opportunity. Some of my associates say you've been feeling.. unaccomplished."

  
  


The criminal didn't sit any straighter. 

  
  


"And I've heard you have sharp eyes."

"Sharp eye, you may want to say."

"Eye?"

  
  


The man, casually, put a finger on one of his scleras, without so much as flinching, tapping the hard..? surface. 

_Oh._

"I see you didn't do your research."

"I.."

The criminal looked even more amused, barking out a raspy, distorted laugh. 

"What the fuck would I want from a bunch of airheads that didn't even bother searching me up before coming here?"

_Don't tremble. For the love of God, don't tremble._

Across the table, he slid an envelope, only getting a raised eyebrow as a response. 

“Look, we heard you have an interest in _personas._ ”

_That_ got his attention. 

He turned towards the envelope, practically ripping it open with a complete lack of patience, finding not only money, but a series of printed _pictures._

The way his functioning eye lit up made it suddenly terribly obvious that one of them was glass. There was a _monstrosity_ in his excitement, in the way he tossed the money aside carelessly in order to look at the pictures better, getting a little too close to them to be comfortable, seemingly wanting to take in all the possible details. He raised his head, insanity leaking through the cracks of his apparent composure as he bore holes into the other. “What’s the meaning of this?”

Well, at least now he seemed cooperative. 

“I heard that you used to have associates who were very _familiar_ with the concept.” 

“What do you want from me? If you haven’t noticed, there isn’t much I can do in here.” He narrowed his eyes, sitting up straighter, defensive.

_Well, now they were going somewhere._

“Oh, haven’t you heard? Your bail was paid.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


For a moment, there was silence.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“ _What._ How.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He grinned at the future asset. “We just want you to help us with something that could possibly help you accomplish your original goal.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The murderer’s real eye was shining.

  
  
  
  
  


“Alright, you got me. I’m listening.”

* * *

“Please tell me you brought water.” His soft voice rang from the open bedroom, as his husband busied himself in the living room placing a few things down.

“Yeah.” He got as a response, barely heard as he unlocked and opened the window. 

The sight of wisps of yellow amongst the darkening blue sky was welcome, but not so much the wind that messed with the few strands of black hair that had escaped from his braid. 

Sharp eyes took on the sight of manmade concrete polygons and steel horrors with slight amusement, as they barely visited this part of town, and while it really wasn’t that big of a deal, he would take any distractions over thinking too deeply about how he had just tangled himself right back up where he had said he wasn’t going to get tangled again.

  
  
  
  
  


_Again._

  
  
  
  
  
  


He didn’t even turn around that much to catch the water bottle that had been thrown his way, quickly opening it and taking a drink. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Not even that soothed the pain on his nerves.

  
  
  


But it had to be done.

  
  
  
  
  


He took out a small notebook from his pocket and began writing things down, mainly calculating the distance between their confirmed target and their own position, taking delicate sips from his bottle.

His notes were quick and diligent, making as many as he could with as much of the information they currently had.

The blue carpet muffled Tatsuya’s movements behind Jun, as he began opening the bags and getting everything ready, assembling the rifle with practiced precision, metal parts barely making any noise except for the ghostly screams of those it shot. 

  
  
  
  
  


The notebook dripped blood.

Impossible to see, 

  
  
  


Impossible to touch, 

  
  
  
  
  


Impossible to smell.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


But death nonetheless.

  
  
  
  
  


Tatsuya slumped against him, letting out a little grumble as he glanced at the numbers. 

“Coriolis?”

“Already taken count of.”

  
  


The rest of the afternoon, none of them said another word. 

  
  
  
  


There was no need to. 

  
  
  
  


They already knew what they were there for.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


So the heroes could stay shining, the world spinning, and the monsters well fed.

The true part of the job.

* * *

  
  


When his grey eyes finally managed to open amongst the crust they had accumulated, he found himself in a large metal room, surrounded by a couple of boxes and paraphernalia from times way before his own.

The darkness didn’t help him see much further than his immediate surroundings, and when he attempted to stand up, he found himself pulled right back down by tight knots, swallowed by ink black once more.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He swam until he was drowning.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The next time he opened his eyes, in front of him, seated on a large box, was a menace.

  
  
  
  


Dressed like Satanael, but with the face of an angel that had died too young. 

  
  
  


“The darkness will follow you always, Kurusu-kun. No matter how much lighting you put around it. If it takes root in your heart, it’ll make it its own.”

  
  
  


When he tried to speak back, he found out he couldn’t.

  
  
  


“Do you miss me enough to plunge yourself into the deepest parts of hell? Lose your friends? Have your hands stained by blood?”

  
  
  
  
  
  


_You know I do._

  
  
  


He hoped his thoughts could be heard this time around.

  
  
  


The smile he got back confirmed it so.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Make sure you’re being serious there. Because once they’re stained with it, you won’t ever be able to wash it off.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The beautiful face contorted itself into one of a demon, breaking apart the suit of flesh and feathers surrounding it, eating it all like if it was its last supper, eyes opening from what was lost before.

Akira’s head couldn’t comprehend what was manifesting in front of him, the creature mismatched and abominable, eyes innumerable, the inky darkness that had surrounded him part of its body. 

“The things humanity does for love.” It whispered, before slithering off, and shutting Akira’s perception once more.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Drowning him.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When he woke up again,

  
  
  
  


The warehouse was empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next!
> 
> We haven't seen Goro in a hot minute, huh?


	18. chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goro meets new people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there!!! Broadcasting from covid lockdown, here's chapter 18!!!
> 
> This took.. so long to write. I hope you enjoy and have a good week!!!!
> 
> Have some Goro being a dumbass moments.

**[Himbo]:** yo thats a low joke man. you don’t say that shit as if it was real! you dont!!

**[LesbiAnn]:** What????? Yusuke is this real????? But we spoke recently!!! When did this happen, what the fuck??????

**[Sweetheart]:** Pardon me, but I don’t believe Kitagawa-kun is capable of pulling such a mean prank on us, Ann-chan. I believe this to be real.

**[Sweetheart]:** This is shocking, to say the least. But you said in your message, Kitagawa-kun, that there are already measures being implemented to get Akira-kun back? Is there any way we can help? Any way I can be of service?

**[Leather mommy]:** I just saw this. I can’t believe it. We spoke days ago with Akira, and while I suspected something was going on, I didn’t think it would escalate into a kidnapping, for fuck’s sake!

**[Leather mommy]:** Who is looking for him? Do you know anything? Are they reputable? Is there a ransom? Sis could help if needed. Is there anything I can do? 

**[Leather mommy]:** When exactly did this happen? Was there anyone with him?

**[Leather mommy]:** Please ask Futaba when you can, Yusuke. 

**[Fellow redhead]:** akira-senpai is gone??? what.

**[Fellow redhead]:** but who took him???? 

**[Fellow redhead]:** hasnt he been through enough???? 

**[Fellow redhead]:** what can we do?!

**[Inari the furry]:** Thank you everyone for responding this quickly. We are still in the process of gathering information, Futaba and I. As for those who doubt my statement, this is one hundred percent true. We are currently in the process of listening to the people who have Akira’s phone in their possession. Morgana is with them, as well. And, about help, we are not sure still what’s going on, so help could easily backfire.

**[Sweetheart]:** Morgana!! Is he alright? 

**[Himbo]:** the goddamn cat is with those people?! where are they?! im not tied by anything else. i can go there. 

**[Himbo]:** i swear ill go there.

**[Sweetheart]:** Ryuji, dear, please. 

**[Himbo]:** but this is akira, haru!!! hes already been through shit like this, im not leaving him behind this time! im not!

**[Himbo]:** and whats morgana doing!!! didnt he hear the people getting akira?! why didnt he do something?!

**[Alibaba]:** hey everyone

**[Alibaba]:** calm down for two fuckin secs

**[Alibaba]:** im gonna talk to the ppl lookin for kira, dont know em but ill find out what the fuck is going on here w inari

**[Alibaba]:** i know we all want him back, hes like my fucking brother to me of course i want him back 

**[Alibaba]:** but if we pull some shit we could actually get him in more trouble aight

**[Alibaba]:** we dont have our personas anymore, n morganas a fucking cat ryuji he cant do shit

**[Alibaba]:** were regular ass teenagers so we gotta be careful bout this shit aight, apparently this goes way deeper than just some tough guys lookin to get fucked up

**[Himbo]: @Alibaba** yeah youre right im just mad. i want him back!! hes my best bro ofc i want him back!!

**[Inari the furry]:** Please let us find out further information, and I promise to keep all of you updated while Futaba keeps working her best to understand the situation Akira is in. 

  
  


* * *

**17:45**

  
  


**[Takehaya]:** We may have a security breach.

**[Juno]:** Understood. I’ll let our friends know.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**18:05**

  
  


**[Artemis]:** Hi there!!

**[Takehaya]:** Hey, Artemis-san. It’s a pleasure.

**[Artemis]:** Takehaya-san! The pleasure is all mine!! I see Juno-chan told you about me!! Good!!!

**[Artemis]:** Anyways! What’s this about a security breach I heard? :)

* * *

The first to get out of the car was Teddie, who stretched his legs with a satisfied _“Ah.”,_ and eagerly took his first whiff of the saltier air that made Sumaru City what it was. 

“We’re here! The crown pearl of Japan!” 

“I don’t think anybody calls it that, Teddie.” Rise laughed, taking a moment to put her hair right back up into another messy bun before moving to grab her bags, the discrete grey uncharacteristic in comparison to her usual gaudy choices in luggage. After her came Kanji, Naoto and Morgana, the latter two still focused on talking to the possible Phantom Thief that had bugged Akira’s phone. 

“Hey, Alibaba, can you look at anything?” Asked the excited cat, his impossibly bright blue eyes taking over the steel and cement glory of Sumaru’s infrastructure. He probably got a negative answer, as Morgana then went on a great effort to describe the place they had stopped at, description of business marquees and all. His good energy was infectious, and Naoto couldn’t help but smile, as they helped Morgana with his description of Sumaru City to his friend. 

“Hey, tell Alibaba about how sick the waves here are! Dude, you into the beach?” Yelled Kanji into the speaker, joining his partner and Morgana.

Right after them came out Chie and Yukiko, helping each other with their bags until the both of them carried the same exact amount of weight, distributed as well as possible, so neither of them would get more tired than the other, and they could keep up. 

A sweet gesture, perhaps unthinkable of a few years back. 

When Yosuke gently bumped his head against his shoulder and asked what was up, Yu had to take a moment to search for words that could in any shape or form express the mixed feelings in his heart.

_Morgana fit right in with them, his energy bubbly and contagious, bouncing off and reflected in everyone, hopeful despite the grim circumstances._

_Chie and Yukiko had grown so much, not only as a romantic couple, but as the friendship that had begun it all._

_Naoto looked so much more well adjusted than years back, when they were still racking their own head trying to comprehend what was “wrong” with them. It turned out, nothing at all._

_Kanji, despite the immense weight on his back with both Kirijo and the problems with his mother, had grown into a man capable of withstanding and confronting issues without resorting to simply getting mad._

_Rise looked so comfortable with them it was as if she was always there._

_Teddie had grown into a respectable shadow, helpful and empathic, with an identity so solid it was unshakeable._

_He.._

_He wished they were simply going on a trip to have fun. To reconnect, to talk and joke around._

_It was sad an emergency accomplished what was almost impossible otherwise._

  
  
  


“Despite it all, it feels nice to have the whole team back.” He finally expressed, hoping Yosuke filled in the gaps. 

And his Partner didn’t disappoint. He nodded wistfully, taking a moment to kiss Yu’s cheek and nod before moving to get out of the car. “We really should try and make a real roadtrip happen at one point.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


“We should.”

  
  
  
  
  


But if Yu didn’t stop wistfully thinking about how much his friends had grown and began moving, Helios was going to kick all of their asses, and nobody wanted that.

  
  
  


He got out of the car. “Alright everyone, listen up.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Accommodating eight people (nine, if Morgana was to be included) wasn’t easy. 

Even less when everything had to be resolved as quickly as possible. 

So one text led to a call, a call led to an email, and a lot of inner tensions later, the former Investigation Team finally had somewhere to crash that wasn’t too either economically (Rise had been banned from using her credit card anywhere near this particular mission, just in case), legally, or socially suspicious, a property near the coastal line. 

It was clean and well maintained, taller than it was wide, surrounded by businesses and other properties not too different from it, sporting a little too proudly the horrible remnants of Le Corbusier’s weird fever dreams mixed with more traditional lines in select places. 

  
  
  


A quiet, unassuming house. 

  
  
  


The thick wooden door opened to reveal a short black haired woman who welcomed them with a sunny grin, quickly ushering the group inside. “Ah, you made it on time! How wonderful!”

Yu looked around with curious eyes at the unfamiliar property and the woman leading them. “Thank you for having us, Ayase-san.” 

“Oh it’s no problem, kids! You’ll be a little squished together, but you’ll have some amazing meals, that I can assure. Now come on.” Ayase-san kept her chipper attitude as she led the group inside the living room, where, sitting on the dark green couch, was Helios accompanied by two women, one at each side of him.

  
  
  
  
  


_Fuck yes, he didn’t look mad._

  
  
  
  
  
  


Yu tried really, _really_ hard to hide his relieved sigh.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


But he had to admit it, they were _intimidating._

  
  


There was something particularly dangerous to the way the two women sat, confident and unafraid, natural leaders. Helios wasn’t behind either, imposing and ruthless, cold brown eyes behind red glasses that were scanning Yu’s every move. 

_Not unkind._

_Simply.. strict._

  
  


The woman on his right first spoke up, getting a little more comfortable on the dark green sofa, giving the whole group a kind smile as they bowed in greeting. 

“Welcome! It’s great to finally meet you all in person!” Despite her sunny behavior, she was still _terrifying._ The house’s lighting didn’t help either, creating a halo over her black hair and making her look even more otherworldly than she already looked.

Out of the three of them, she was the least common looking.

There was something..

_Something just the slightest bit off._

But Yu couldn’t discern what it was.

  
  
  


Yosuke stepped a little closer to Yu after bowing. Behind them the others also remained together in clusters, undoubtedly having the same impression of the trio in front of them. 

“The rest of the team isn’t coming, so it’s just us this time!” The woman continued, resting her hands over her crossed legs, the slight flare of her cream suit’s pants hanging down like petals. “My name is Artemis,”

_\--Oh._

“and I’m the main supervisor for the Nanjo Group, shadow containment division. I believe you all know Helios,” she gestured towards the man in the middle, who nodded at them. “who is this mission’s amazing search coordinator. And right next to him, this is Gabrielle, our wonderful logistics specialist.” The pronunciation of the name wasn’t the one Yu had expected, raising his eyebrows in slight surprise, a gesture the woman imitated in light banter. 

In very scary banter.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Yu swallowed the bundle of nerves that had threatened to come out of his mouth and spoke up.

“Artemis-san. Helios-san. Gabrielle-san. My name is Yu Narukami, code name Izanagi, and we are the members who asked for your help regarding this case.”

Yosuke followed, still close to Yu to ground himself and attempt his best not to say dumb shit. “And I’m Yosuke Hanamura. Takehaya.”

The woman nodded. “Takehaya Susano-o! I’m surprised you didn’t pick Jiraiya as your codename, but I still love the choice!”

That took Yosuke a little aback. “You uh- You know about..?”

“Yup!” Was her only reply, putting emphasis on the _p._

_Huh._

After Yosuke, who was still blinking a few times to get himself out of his own stupor, came Kanji. “Uh, I go by Zaiten. ‘S good to meet you.”

“I am Yukiko Amagi, codename Sumeo-Okami. It is a pleasure, Artemis-san, Helios-san, Gabrielle-san. I have heard excellent things about you.”

“I’m Haraedo! It’s nice to meet you!”

“Aaaaand I’m Kuma! Ladies, gentleman, you all three look amazing this evening!” Teddie’s grin, Yu had to admit, was quite charming when he wanted it to be, no matter how much he felt the urge to shut him the fuck up. 

Luckily, none took offense, Gabrielle putting a hand to her chest and giving Teddie a disarming smile. “Why, thank you Kuma-san.”

  
  
  


As for the ones that weren’t permanent persona users, they simply introduced themselves with their names. 

  
  


That left.. Morgana, and Alibaba.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Uh..” Naoto began, looking at their bag, where Morgana had hidden in. “Mor-”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Mona.” His fluffy black head emerged from inside the bag, puffing up his chest in a gesture of fake confidence. “I’m Mona.”

  
  
  


For a moment, there was a bit of shocked silence, and the ghost of a smile on Helios’ face at the sight of Morgana. 

“Hello, Mona-san.” He greeted him with reverence, quickly recovering from the initial shock, his smile warming up progressively. Next to him, Artemis was trying her best not to smile too wide either, and Gabrielle’s knowing smile could light up a room.

  
  
  


_A splash of humanity on ruthless faces._

  
  
  
  
  
  


Morgana continued, his voice shaking slightly, but having enough confidence in himself to keep going, as he quickly explained what had happened to Akira, and then introduced Alibaba in almost the same spoken paragraph.

“Uh, Alibaba, does your thing.. can you talk?”

While the rest of the group concentrated on that, Yu kept his head up, which was how he was able to catch the way Artemis shot Yosuke a quick wink and a small smile, which Yosuke replied with one of his own, despite his nerves from being in her presence.

_...What had the two of them talked about, exactly?_

Things seemed to solve themselves quite quickly, as a heavily distorted, robotic voice filled the room, and Yu snapped out of the quick web of information that had showed up in his mind born out of that quick exchange between his partner and the woman in front of them. 

**“Hello. My name is Alibaba.”**

  
  


“It’s a pleasure.” Helios was quick to reply, his eyes focused on the phone from which the voice was coming from.

  
  


**“I’m not here to cause trouble or disrupt. I’m here to see you all do your job and bring my brother back, or there will be hell to pay. Don’t test me.”**

Helios seemed absolutely unaffected. “That’s fair, Alibaba-san. As a family man myself, I understand your urgency to see your brother again.”

Morgana quickly interrupted, and Yosuke glared at him for doing so, but Helios didn’t look affected at all, in fact, he seemed oddly pleased every time Morgana spoke.

Yu could understand that.

_Morgana was fucking adorable after all._

“And we’re going to get him back soon! Right?”

“Of course. As soon as we are able to.” Helios smiled softly at Morgana.

**“I don’t trust empty promises. I have taken down bigger things than all of you, and I have no issue doing so again. Until I see my brother here, I won’t trust you.”**

“We aren’t expecting you to, Alibaba-san. In fact, I’m glad you don’t. Our results will speak for themselves.” Helios’ tone was still unaffected, as if Alibaba had just said how the weather was instead of threatening a whole organization. 

  
  
  
  


But before any more words could be exchanged Ayase-san was back with tea and snacks, quickly followed by a young woman (most likely her daughter, if the similar hair texture and freckles were anything to go by.) bringing as many cups as she possibly could, balancing them with surprising dexterity. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


That prompted the group to sit down, and talk things a little better. 

  
  
  
  


“Ayase-san, we thank you for lending us your space for this mission.” Gabrielle smiled kindly at her after taking a sip of the green tea she had been served. 

  
  
  
  


They had settled with squeezing all together in the living room, Ayase-san’s daughter quickly having helped everyone find a place to sit as comfortably as possible. 

  
  
  
  
  


“It’s an honor to me! I don’t, like, understand too much of all of this, but I’m happy to help.” Ayase-san’s grin was contagious, as she settled down the basket of homemade cookies on the coffee table, where everyone could easily reach. “I’ll leave you all to talk in privacy while my daughter and I go pick her sister up from a friend’s house. E- I mean, Gabrielle, you know where the keys are. Come on, Uno.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The first few minutes after Ayase-san and her daughter had left the house were silent, only briefly interrupted by the clank of green and white porcelain cups and the gentle consumption of sugary treats. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A small breather before the storm began. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Well.” Artemis put her cup down. “Let’s talk business, shall we? Helios?”

  
  
  


He nodded, swiftly taking out a quite large, yet slick tablet that had been hiding in the inside of his dark grey blazer until then and powering it on, prompting the group to huddle together and look at it better. 

On the tablet a map of Sumaru City’s industrial area was displayed, a place about two hours away from the house they were currently in. On it, circled in yellow, was a warehouse surrounded by multiple red dots, unlabeled as anything but simple decoration.

“This meeting was supposed to be a quick briefing of possible places and positions, but combing through the area we found a lot earlier than expected the origin of the car that took Kurusu-kun, and when we are expecting to see him showing up in this city. So, we had to rearrange our plans.” Helios began.

* * *

Goro felt particularly anxious after that meeting with Kashihara-san. He had ended up keeping the flowers in his shitty temporary room, not with any intention of actually taking care of them, but.

  
  


_As a reminder._

  
  
  


The message contained in the bouquet remained with him the entire weekend, pinned to the back of his mind and incredibly annoying, a tertiary itch to the primary one on his back, and the secondary vague feeling that something was.. 

_Wrong._

He couldn’t pinpoint _what_ exactly, but there was something wrong in the air, perhaps, in the way shadows distorted as easily as they had when he had been at the Women’s Shelter, in the way the hairs on the back of his neck subtly raised up. 

A premonition, accentuated by waking up and tasting copper inside his mouth, yet being unable to register what he had dreamed about. 

All he remembered was the sight of a pool of thick dark red under a head full of

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Still perfect,_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Still gorgeous,_

  
  
  
  
  
  


_(Oh, how gorgeous!)_

  
  
  
  
  


Jet black curls.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Saturday was spent with his gloves firmly on his hands, to avoid more scratching. 

  
  
  


( _If they had shaken as he renewed the dye on his hair, he ignored them._ )

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Sunday was spent with people unaware they were in the presence of a monster.

Julia Schwartz had invited him to tag along with her study group once they had discovered that they had other classes in common aside from mathematics, (Goro having taken at this point quite seriously his attempt to blend in and seem as an ordinary student as much as possible, knowing that only appearing in one class would make him stand out more than if he took a couple) to get ready for the following exam, which would be in two weeks. She had told Goro that the plan was to meet up every Sunday before the exam, three meetings until the fateful Monday when they would have to prove they were somehow worthy to go on with the course of their careers. 

  
  


And he knew he should’ve said no.

  
  
  
  
  


He should’ve pushed her aside, kept his penance and his separation from those that didn’t have their hands stained with blood. 

  
  
  
  
  


But he went anyway.

  
  
  


( _Selfishness, after all, was the damnation of man._ )

  
  
  
  
  


In a modest diner, surrounded by fellow young adults, Goro found himself smiling at more than one of the others’ little stories, told in between pauses from their study of the nature of materials and the mathematical forces surrounding them. 

At the slight splash of humanity to the monster whose sins seemed to be breathing down his neck. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The taste of copper accumulated under his tongue, despite sleep barely coming to him that night, his thoughts too filled with _what ifs_ of a life that could’ve been his, perhaps, if revenge hadn’t taken over everything that he was. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When Monday came around, the shadows that distorted behind his back grew larger. The large panes of glass that made up the classroom’s ceiling let sunlight shine fully over his head, yet no warmth seemed to come upon him, the unexplainable worry still haunting him, growing even further as other students filled the space and settled in their own little spots. 

Like.

  
  


Like he was being watched.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Old paranoia threatened to settle on his bones. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Sunlight made his hair look slightly like dried blood.

  
  
  
  
  
  


His eyes furiously scanned the room, as he had been tricked twice, and at this point Goro was more than justified, in his opinion, to be even more paranoid. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Which is why the inhumanly _dark_ eyes watching him from the desk right behind his own weren’t a surprise, but were nonetheless horribly dreaded. 

A familiar face, if only in the sense of how otherworldly it was. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_A shadow in real life._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The air crackled. 

  
  


Goro’s fear crackled right back.

  
  
  
  
  


Kashima’s (a name he wouldn’t be able to forget, no matter _what_ ) subtle smile was _horrifying,_ in the way his lips contorted and broke through a sort of mask, showing vague traces of..

_Were those marks? Cuts? Tattoos?_ On his cheeks, rippling underneath fake skin.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He felt no choice but to awkwardly smile back.

  
  


( _Just in case just in case just in case just in case just in case just in case-_ )

  
  
  
  


“How’s all the petty fighting and rejection going, pretty boy? Coping well with it?”

_That_ took him by surprise. He blinked a few times, as a cacophony of different possibilities, every one more horrible than the last went through him, from being taunted to this man..? being a vengeful god tasked with fulminating him at once. So, at the overload of possibilities, all Goro could do was sputter a quick and utterly pathetic “What..?”

And the answer he got back was even more perplexing!

The ma-sha- _being..?_ tilted his head slightly, inhuman features unsettling and unattractive as he calculated what he was about to say. “Hm. Guess I’m too far back still.” He closed his eyes, shrugging casually as he relaxed on his chair, the gesture cocky, absolutely confident in his own abilities. 

And hell, if the way _everything,_ even the _fucking air itself,_ tried its best not to upset him somehow said anything about his power, 

He sure had a right to look as domineering as he wanted to. 

  
  
  
  
  


But.

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait. 

_What had he just said?_

Too concentrated in the visual cues, Goro had barely registered what the other was actually saying, but in his defense this creature was too incomprehensible to be able to be understood all at once. 

_Far back..?_

Blinking a few times and shaking his head, he tried to set himself straight and ask. 

  
  
  
  


But when he opened his eyes, the desk behind him was empty, and the air was circulating normally once more. 

  
  
  


The chill on Goro’s spine almost broke him for a moment. He glanced around, to see if he had just missed Kashima rising up to leave. 

  
  


When he only found puny humans circulating around, Goro had no other choice to turn right around, and continue doing his work.

  
  
  
  


There was no time in his exhausted mind to unpack all of _that._

But the shadows still hadn’t left his back.

Despite the sunny skies, somehow Goro knew there was more to come than just that.

* * *

“We now know Kurusu-kun is supposed to arrive this Monday evening, and is going to be kept here.” Helios pointed at the warehouse. “This plan, as you all can possibly discern, is sloppy at best, and downright horrible at worst. We have reasons to believe this wasn’t even planned at all, but is in fact a last measure tactic.”

Artemis, having taken another sip from her cup of tea, piped in. _“Some of our agents_ are going to take _a look at the area,_ and we’ll continue monitoring until Kurusu-kun’s arrival is confirmed.”

At this, Yu furrowed his eyebrows. 

  
  


_A look at the area?_

  
  
  
  
  


Gabrielle’s knowing smile grew wider, shooting Yu a wink as she put against her lips one of the sugary treats.

  
  
  


_What…_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Oh._

  
  
  
  


_Oh,_ **_fuck._ **

  
  


* * *

Apparently his meeting with Kashima wasn’t going to be the only strange thing happening on Goro's Monday. 

Having said goodbye to Julia and Deepika (who apparently hadn’t seen anything weird, to make matters worse) with a careless wave, he picked up his things hastily and got out of the classroom as soon as possible, determined to take a breather from the _absolute mindfuck_ that had been Kashima’s presence, even more when he hadn’t ever expected to see him again. 

His scar was burning, his head hurt slightly, and all he wanted was out. 

  
  
  
  
  


The problem with the classroom he had been crammed in was that it was at the highest point floor, however, so in order to have his so desired breather, he’d have to navigate the whole building. 

_Fuck._

Letting out an audible groan, he shoved more than one of his fellow classmates to get out of the way, reaping the benefits of not having to keep up his princely mask anymore, quickly navigating brick covered walls and linoleum floors still standing from a time when this kind of disgusting architecture was somehow seen as inviting.

( _With a bit of amusement, Goro wondered if Akira would like the more “homely” parts of this building. He had such poor taste, after all. If he was to be honest, Goro preferred the area near the study hall. It had better design, something that he was starting to appreciate a little more than he had ever imagined._ )

  
  


Making his way through different halls and stairways, he saw that the amount of students around him was dwindling, but that was nothing too uncommon, people usually loitered either outside or right next to the front door, so the inner paths and ramifications not being populated wasn’t that big of a deal.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was however, as Goro would find out just a second after, the perfect place to be cornered. 

  
  
  
  
  


An arm quickly placed itself over Goro’s chest, effectively stopping all his momentum. 

“What-” He was about to curse the fucker that had tried to stop him in that way, perhaps ask what the fuck was wrong with them, when he found himself staring at amber speckled dark red eyes.

_Oh._

( _Fuck, okay, hello._ )

“Amamiya-kun, do you have a moment?” His voice was soft and steady, but his lips betrayed a small amused smile at Goro’s subtle shock.

But Goro was more stubborness than person, and he intended to keep it that way. 

“...Was that necessary?” He hissed, narrowing his eyes. 

“Absolutely.” Kashihara-san’s smile grew wider, sharper, as he pushed himself off of the hallway’s wall, and moved next to Goro, nodding with his head to continue walking together at a pace that wasn’t _unhinged meters per hour._

And Goro, like the idiot he was, followed the man again, because goddamnit, apparently he didn’t have a brain. 

“Are you free tomorrow?” Kashihara-san continued unprompted, Goro’s silence being more than enough for him to continue.

_What._

  
  


“What.”

“Oh, don’t misunderstand.” He chuckled, shaking his head once he realized what his question could be interpreted as. “Remember our little discussion this past Friday?”

_Where exactly was this going?_

Goro nodded hesitantly, furrowed eyebrows deepening. “Yes, I do. I still have the bouquet you gifted me, as a matter of fact.” _And how could he forget? He was fucking outsmarted and threatened in a matter of minutes._

That took Kashihara-san a little by surprise. He raised his eyebrows, turning to look at Goro. “Huh. Well, that’s lovely. But I wasn’t talking about that precisely.”

“Then talk.” 

“My. Are you impatient today, Amamiya-kun?” 

  
  
  
  
  


_Either Goro was very gay, or this man was objectively gorgeous when he was being an asshole._

( _What the fuck he had with assholes, exactly, he had no idea._

_After all, Akira was, also, a gorgeous asshole._ )

  
  
  
  


“I didn’t have the best day today, Kashihara-san. So I’d suggest you hurried the fuck up, whatever it is you want to tell me.” He decided to be honest. 

And his request was quickly fulfilled, Kashihara’s face twisting into one of worry for a second, but he quickly composed himself back into that shrine idol mask. “I see. To make matters as quick and efficient as possible, I believe I may have a way to answer the questions you had for me regarding our.. _common status._ ”

_Huh._

As they went down another set of stairs, and sunlight hit over the both of them blindingly, Goro wondered just how exactly that was possible. 

“And _how exactly_ do you plan to answer my questions?”

The sun made Kashihara’s eyes into two flames as he stopped just a step before Goro, his stone cold features turning into a slightly _deranged_ little smile. He leaned closer to the other, in a mockery of secrecy.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Some things are harder to believe if not witnessed firsthand, Akechi-kun.” He whispered.

  
  
  
  
  


_That-_

  
  
  


This man looked somehow.. otherworldly.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


And Goro, in all his admiration for the man that he would have to be paid to say out loud, had to admit this wasn’t _natural._

  
  
  


_This man didn’t look natural._

  
  


_He also looked like he was a lot more violent than he let on._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He had to swallow the searing hot stone that had lodged itself on his throat, at the realization that they most likely had a lot more in common than Goro had first imagined. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The idea felt.. 

  
  
  
  


_Hopeful, somehow._

  
  
  
  
  


“And.” He pried his eyes away from those flames. “And what exactly are we talking about here?”

Kashihara continued down the stairs, as if absolutely nothing had happened a couple of seconds before. “You can’t be doing this forever, a fact I believe you’re fully aware of. At one point you’ll have to continue running, or seek shelter once more.”

  
  
  
  
  


_Well. He was aware, but being made aware of it once more was like a hot iron splitting him in half._

  
  
  
  


He took a moment to visibly cringe and take a pained breath, a pang of pain on his scar at the sheer idea of having to keep running, and _running, and running, with no way out, no fucking way out, because he was supposed to be dead._

_He was supposed to be a cadaver, a dead man walking, and he should’ve been dead once more but_ **_death wouldn’t take him and wouldn’t swallow him up, he was so unwanted not even death wanted him and god FUCKING DAMNIT-_ **

  
  
  
  
  
  


There was gentle pressure on his shoulders, a whispered question, and a concerned face near his own.

  
  
  
  


He hadn’t even realised they had already descended to the first floor. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Akechi-kun?” Kashihara’s eyes looked nearly horrified, as he quickly searched for cues on Goro’s face. “I didn’t realise… Oh, I’m so callous sometimes, look at you.. Do you need water?”

_What.._

He quickly batted the hands on his shoulders away with a grumble, and Kashihara took his distance, still staring with concern at him. 

  
  


“I.” He took a deep breath. When had he gotten this pathetic? The man had simply mentioned the _idea_ of running again, and he was panicking about it? What the fuck?

_Was he this fucking weak?_

“I’m okay.”

“We could sit down.”

“I’m okay, goddamnit.”

“A-”

“Kashihara-san. Stop it. Please.”

He nodded, waiting patiently until Goro was breathing normally once more. “I’m. I’m not this fucking weak all the time, alright.”

“You weren’t being weak. I was callous, Amamiya-kun.”

The fact he was being apologized to by an _adult,_ of all things, wasn’t lost in Goro’s mind. He looked at Kashihara-san, who hadn’t moved, and was simply waiting patiently.

_Was he being pitied?_

“Go on with what you wanted to say.”

“Are you sure? We could pick up this discussion some other time.”

He let out an angry grumble, beginning to walk once more, keeping his back as straight as possible, not caring if he was being followed along or not. 

But of course, he was. 

“Tell me. I told you, I’m not weak.”

“And I said you weren’t. I was the one on the wrong.”

“Save me your pity.”

“Why would I be pitying someone as capable as you, Amamiya-kun? I don’t understand.”

  
  
  
  
  


_That.._

  
  
  
  


_He didn’t trust the man._

  
  


_But fuck if it didn’t feel good to be called capable._

  
  
  
  


He didn’t smile, didn’t give him the satisfaction. 

  
  
  
  


“Then you’ll continue talking.”

  
  
  
  
  


“...Alright. As I was saying before, you have limited options. There aren’t many places for you to go, even less where you’d be able to meet people with the same.. characteristics as the both of us.” His voice was soft, and still slightly concerned, as they continued towards the ground floor. “But recently there has been a set of circumstances that have led me to have to cooperate with fellow users. Which, of course, reminded me of you, your situation, and your want for more information about other users. If you would like some answers, I’m offering you to accompany me, and a few others, so you can witness what other users are up to. Not _changing hearts,_ precisely, but. It could possibly be of interest to you.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


_Holy fuck._

  
  
  
  
  
  


_‘Possibly?’_

  
  
  
  


_Was this man kidding? Of course he wanted to fucking know!_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


( _The petty want to know and experience more than Golden Child Kurusu reared its ugly head in between Goro’s excite-_ **_curiosity._ ** _Just curiosity._ )

  
  
  
  


“Tomorrow, you said?” If his voice had gotten just a tad higher, no it hadn’t. 

As Kashihara-san confirmed him, they both exited the building. 

Like usual, there were many people loitering around in small clusters, talking to each other about inconsequential topics in between hushed whispers and cigarette smoke. Kashihara-san got stopped more than once by a few students, some of them having a look that betrayed a little more than just academic admiration, effectively pausing their conversation. 

  
  


( _Well, at least he wasn’t the only idiot._ )

  
  


Goro himself got a few curious looks, but his paranoia at possibly being recognized didn’t last long, as the students looked plainly uninterested after a few seconds of evaluating him, and resumed their own conversations with their friends.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


( _For a moment, Goro was reminded of mischievous steel eyes and the ruffling of his own hair, with the confident promise of not being recognized, which had, despite all odds, worked._ )

  
  
  
  
  


As they walked to the gates, Kashihara resumed with their conversation. “Well, Amamiya-kun. If you’re interested in coming along tomorrow, I’ll give you my phone number. Text me either tonight or before two pm tomorrow. I’ll tell you where and when we’ll meet. Is that alright with you?”

_The strange, slightly tight feeling in his chest hadn’t changed._

And neither had the shadows crawling up his spine.

Nor the incessant itch on his lower back.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


But.

  
  
  
  
  


He wanted to know what other persona users had been up to. Not only did he now have the confirmation that even more persona users _existed,_ but that they were possibly _active,_ and that?

Goro had no idea about that.

  
  
  


Was there another pocket dimension? Did they do things in reality despite how impossible the thought sounded?

He would finally find out the reason behind the lack of Metaverse encounters, the different sensation between touching the Golden Boy God Trial Extreme and touching Kashihara, why he hadn’t heard of any of this before.

It would explain Kashima’s existence, even.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He wasted no time deciding what to do.

Goro was dangerous, petty, touch starved, stupid and irrationally angry, at times too naive and slightly suicidal, but even more than _any_ of that, 

  
  


He was _curious._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


And he wanted to see where exactly this was going.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**21:40**

**[Me]:** Hello. I’ll go.

  
  
  
  


He wasted no time with formalities, as he wasn’t about to expose either of his names to a phone number he had no idea whether it was secure or not, and he was quite sure Kashihara wouldn’t mind. After all, it wasn’t as if he had to keep an appearance of normality around him.

  
  
  


**[???]:** Excellent! Then we’re meeting tomorrow, Tuesday, at five pm at the address I’ll send you attached.

  
  
  
  


When Goro opened it, he found himself staring at a quite boring looking industrial zone he hadn’t mapped out, assuming he wasn’t going to go to that area of the city any time soon. 

Well, it seemed he was going to end up mapping it out after all.

Such an unassuming area for a group of persona users? He had to give it to them, whether it had been Kashihara who had gathered them, or anybody else, it was an excellent way to remain hidden in plain sight. 

  
  
  
  


**[???]:** Oh and, before I forget. 

**[???]:** I have seen your current style, and it’s nothing to be worried about, but just in case, this isn’t an opportunity to impress anyone. Please wear practical clothing.

**[???]:** Things you could possibly run in. :)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Huh._

* * *

“Knowing what kind of mission this is, we’ll have to request that only the active members, at least from this group, accompany us.” Gabrielle piped in, once Helios had given a quick run over of what the current tactic was. “Just in case. We have prepared all measures to prevent any injuries or falls, but these measures are only for active members, as we all may be aware of the physical differences between an active member and an inactive one.”

* * *

Goro’s hands were shaking when he finally got to the address Kashihara-san had told him to meet at. His scar was itching terribly as well, but he attempted his best to ignore it, giving tentative steps towards the building in front of his eyes. 

That.. that was the address, right?

He checked his phone one more time. 

  
  
  
  
  


_Well, apparently it was._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He really hadn’t been expecting the defunct fish flour factory in front of him, amongst a sea of grey industrial warehouses and heavily secured houses with a suspicious choice of lighting at the front. The sky was still blue, but the first wisps of pinks and oranges had begun filtering through, and would soon tint everything the appropriate golden mood. 

  
  


And honestly? Goro was very confused.

  
  
  
  
  
  


He looked around once more.

  
  
  
  


_Had this fucker played a prank on him? He hadn’t seemed like someone capable of doing something like that, but Goro didn’t know him enough to pass such judgement._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The streets were deserted, and nobody was waiting for him. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_What the fuck.._

  
  
  
  


He stood where he had been directed. 

  
  


_Maybe the man was running late? It was a possibility. Perhaps they would meet up just the both of them first, and from there they’d go to a secondary location._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A couple of minutes passed by.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Only the breeze kept him company.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A couple more minutes passed.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He was beginning to doubt why the fuck he had said yes to any of this, and he was about to shoot Kashihara a text with a _couple of choice words_ directed to him, when he suddenly began to hear footsteps behind him, coming from more than one person. 

_That.._

_He hadn’t seen any cars outside of the few ones parked around. Had they walked? Taken the train?_

  
  
  


But he didn’t have too much time to speculate, as he was soon turning around and being face to face with Kashihara, and someone else, whom Goro had to look up and do a double take at. 

_Holy_ **_shit._ **

He felt completely devoid of breath for a moment as he stared at the absolutely gorgeous man in front of him and _holy fuck the few pictures he had seen and the small glimpse he had caught of him at the cafe hadn’t made him any justice._

Inside his wondruous mindscape, Goro was letting out a very, _very gay_ wheeze and panicking slightly. 

If Kashihara was an absolute beauty with his cat like eyes and impossibly long lashes, this man was a rougher form of attractive, deep brown eyes intense and more expressive than the rest of his rather neutral face, subtly tanned skin glowing just the slightest bit, as if he had a piece of the Sun within him, only slightly obscured by brown hair that shone with just the slightest twinge of red. Broad shoulders and a figure to die for, built for strength and endurance, toned enough that the buttons on his dark red shirt were attempting to loosen and open at any moment, and _fuck, Goro was so gay._

Combined with Kashihara’s presence? They.. they made Goro’s heart threaten to stop.

  
  
  


( _Holy fuck, holy shit, was this allowed? Was this fucking allowed?_ )

  
  


_They truly looked otherworldly._

  
  
  
  
  


_Worryingly otherworldly._

  
  
  
  
  


He hadn’t even registered they were addressing him because he had been too busy gawking at just how attractive they were, so at the third amused “Akechi-kun?” shot his way, he visibly reacted, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

  
  


“Uh- yes, excuse me, what were you saying, Kashihara-san?” He hoped his face hadn’t betrayed too many of the feelings that had threatened to spill all over, but it seemed he had failed, as Kashihara’s amusement was clear all over his delicate features. 

“I was introducing you. Akechi-kun, this is my partner, Suou.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


_His partner, Suou._

_His.. his partner.._

( _Okay, they had to be together. There was no way they weren’t together._ )

_His partner Suou.._

  
  
  
  


It felt like a soothing balm washing over him, offering the tall man a small, real, ugly smile, bowing at him with gusto.

He.. this..

  
  


This meant a lot more to him than Goro outwardly let on. The man offered him a smile back, brightening his features even further, rays of sunlight digging straight into his chest.

“Nice to meet you.” _And his voice was.._

_Beautiful, sure, but there was a depth in it that reminded him, uncannily, of Shido’s voice._

_Well, at least this man wore it a lot better than the bastard of Shido ever could._

  
  
  
  
  
  


“I. Excuse me for asking this, and I’m aware I shouldn’t pry, but. Suou-san, Kashihara-san. Are you..?” Since he was already into this mess, he might as well ask. 

After all, his ego was in shambles, his psyche felt constantly threatened, if getting to know a gay couple in their borderline fourties was what made his day, especially a combination this attractive, he could have it.

Kashihara answered, the infuriatingly gorgeous man that he was. He shrugged his shoulders with an enigmatic little grin, his whole being seemingly electrified in a way he wasn’t when he was alone, as if the presence of his other half was what charged and stabilized him. 

“Are we?”

  
  
  


_Was he really forcing Goro to say it?_

Any semblance of a smile was erased from his face, turning into an exasperated glare. 

  
  
  


“I’m sorry, Akechi-kun, we won’t know what you’re talking about until you tell us.”

“C’mon, don’t torture the kid.”

Kashihara nudged Suou, letting out a little chuckle. “Fine. Yes, Akechi-kun. Yes we are.”

  
  


Despite the jovial tone with which he said so, there was a challenge in his eyes. 

  
  


_A silent threat._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Apparently the shrine idol could cry, but the tears were made out of blood.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Suou’s eyes were just as confident, just as defiant.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Just as violent as Kashihara’s.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Goro couldn’t stop his elated, disgustingly unattractive grin on time.

  
  
  
  
  


“Me too.” Was all he breathed out. 

  
  
  
  


Their eyes softened immediately, and the weaponry was put down. Kashihara turned to look at Suou and they silently conversed for a few seconds, until they turned back to him. 

  
  


He hadn’t expected the absolutely _breaking_ smile he got back. 

  
  
  


“That’s wonderful, Akechi-kun.” Kashihara’s smile grew even further, while Suou’s remained reserved, nodding along silently. “And we need to talk further about this eventually, but for now, we have things to do, and you have people to meet. C’mon.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The streets didn’t get any more populated as they walked through unending concrete, Goro strategically situated in between the couple. “So.” Kashihara began, taking out his phone from his black pants’ pocket. “Akechi-kun, this is the situation. I expect secrecy from you from this moment forward, first of all.”

_Well, it’s not as if he had that many options about that._

_The weight of the thought that these two people had in their digital possession something that could easily compromise Goro’s freedom and integrity, wasn't lost on him._

  
  


_Nor was the knowledge that Kashihara at least, was shady as fuck._

  
  


_As for Suou.._

_His name seemed oddly familiar, but he didn’t seem to be able to place where he had heard it before, or if he even actually had._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“My secrecy was paid the moment my actual name was mentioned, Kashihara-san.”

  
  


“Good.” The flicker of reddish brown he got his way felt lethally sharp. “As I was saying, as you may be already aware, persona capabilities are very sought after.”

  
  


_Oh, he was aware._

**_Very aware._ **

  
  


“I am, yes.”

“So, to put rather complicated situations and issues in a manner that can be easily digested, in order to avoid being attacked as often as we would be otherwise, we decided to stick together and remain mostly hidden.”

“We made our own clique.” Suou piped in, which made Kashihara let out a soft little laugh.

“Iiiii.. I don’t know if I’d call us that, T-- _Suou._ Anyways. Neither him or I are very involved, as I told you yesterday, but at times we’re called to collaborate in situations like this one. Our main objectives, as an organization, are to bring together as many persona users as we can and offer them stability, away from government and private exploitation, to help the greater community, and to stop the fabricated or forced propagation of persona powers as much as we possibly can.”

“It’s not just persona users, tho.”

“No, there are others who aren’t users, but they come to us out of an interest in the supernatural and a desire to help. I say ‘us’ as if I was an active member,” He chuckled, “But I believe I made myself understood anyways. Right?”

  
  
  


That.. was a lot of things Kashihara assumed Goro knew, and he had a couple of questions regarding the details, and the overall _absolutely shady_ nature of what he had just been told, but he understood the gist of it.

“You made yourself understood, Kashihara-san.” 

“Good.”

As they approached taller buildings, wisps of civilian life began to make themselves known, old, utilitarian apartment complexes intercalated with smaller warehouses. The three of them walked confidently, Goro following on their steps despite having no idea where he was being led to. 

He noticed the way they walked was almost in sync, something that was both endearing and slightly unnerving, Kashihara’s avoidant elegance complemented with Suou’s head on brashness. Their aesthetic was also quite interesting, Kashihara’s all black ensemble and borderline equal stature to Goro’s (Kashihara being a little shorter) combined with the gargantuan height of Suou and his choice of bolder colors, the less gender conforming and the barely too masculine, both painting a picture of compliment and collaboration that made them stand out even further in Goro’s eyes.

  
  
  
  


_He wondered who of the two had been the more vicious fighter._

  
  
  
  


_Or currently was, rather._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They eventually met with a group of people at the entrance of a rundown apartment complex, none of which Goro remotely recognized, dressed in neutral colors and calmly talking amongst each other. 

  
  


He deflated.

  
  
  


_These were persona users?_

They looked quite.. plain, at least compared to the couple he had arrived with, a sea of black and brown hair, grey hoodies and military green sweaters, seemingly having no weapons on their bodies, save for one or two very recognizable bulges covered by sweaters. Well then, he didn’t look too different from them in his dark green hoodie, concealed gun and tighter brown pants, a purchase made specifically for the moment they were currently in.

He turned to Kashihara for answers as to why exactly he and his partner stood out _so much_ from everyone else, but the man was focused on the group in front of them. 

“Excuse me.”

  
  


The moment they were aware of the duo’s presence they quickly straightened their backs and turned to them, fifteen eager pairs of eyes imbued with slight fear. Some glances were shot Goro’s way, but they didn’t last long, quickly turning to look at Kashihara, who obviously was the voice of the duo made up by Suou and him. 

“Good afternoon, everyone. I believe you all know who we are, and what we are doing here today. Your respective positions have been informed, from what I’m aware of?”

“Good afternoon, sir. Yes sir, Helios-san has informed us already.” The seemingly oldest answered.

_Helios-san?_

Goro wasn’t an idiot despite his stupidity in his recent actions, he had been a detective after all. Combining the rather young people in neutral colors, the use of codenames and the subtle fear in the way Kashihara was being adressed, it dawned on him _where the fuck he had been brought._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Goro had been brought to a demonstration._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Now that, explained a lot. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


“As you may have noticed, there is someone new with us today. Everyone, this is..?” 

  
  
  


_Well, he had heard a codename used, and he wasn’t about to compromise his brand new fake identity in whatever the fuck this was._

  
  
  
  
  


_And so, he decided to recycle._

  
  
  
  


“Crow.”

  
  
  


The delighted, borderline proud smile he got back wasn’t what he had expected. “Everyone, welcome Crow-kun, who will be accompanying us in this mission.”

* * *

Once Artemis, Helios and Gabrielle had already left, Ayase-san and her two daughters, Uno and a younger girl they had picked up, helped their guests to where they would sleep, a rather large guest bedroom where many futons could be rolled out if they compromised a little of their personal space.

While the others laid their things down and unpacked, Ayase-san beckoned Yu and Yosuke out of the room silently, a sardonic smile on her face.

  
  
  


They glanced at each other in confusion, but followed. “Aya-” Yu began.

“Let’s speak in the kitchen, please.” She interrupted.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When they reached said downstairs, only the kitchen was lit, casting a strange yellow glow on anything that it touched, eerie and artificial. Ayase-san leaned against one of her white counters, crossing her arms.

“Be glad I was able to house all of you.” She started.

“And we are, Ayase-san, we really are.”

“Are you? Because I’m not sure you understand the trouble you’d be in if it wasn’t for me.” Her frown was almost disgusted, not even her freckles and long lashes breaking the look of anger on her features. 

  
  
  
  


The air felt increasingly uncomfortable. 

  
  
  
  
  


“If either of those two does anything, and I mean _anything_ to my people, _especially to any of my children,_ there’ll be hell to pay.” She got closer to them, her frown deepening. “How do you know they mean well? That they aren’t working for the government?”

  
  
  
  
  
  


_They.. couldn’t assure her of anything._

  
  


“We didn’t know until today, Ayase-san. We really didn’t. But they.. they don’t seem like bad people, just worried for their friend.” Yu spoke up, trying to subtly get in front of Yosuke.

  
  


Her anger faltered at that, and she brought her hands to her face, letting out a frustrated groan. “I hope you two judge people well. I’m the only caretaker of my girls, okay? Sure, Uno is working and all, but. They’re too young to lose their mother. They deserve to have a good life, even if they’re in this mess. Please don’t bring us more trouble.”

“I. I had to report it, Ayase-san, I couldn’t stay quiet. But. I’m sorry you got roped into this.” Yosuke explained.

“It’s okay. You did well reporting it. Just.. be careful, kids. Try not to bring more trouble.”

“We’ll try our best.”

* * *

Goro was led inside one of the apartment buildings along with four others and Kashihara, who stopped right outside of the unit he was being led to. 

“This is where we part ways, Crow-kun, until later on in the night.” Was all he said, before quickly, and as elegantly as always, he bowed goodbye and left Goro behind. 

_Great, so the shady fucker was going to leave Goro alone with even more shady as fuck people._

  
  


_In a practically remote location._

  
  
  


_In a private space, where he could be easily murdered._

  
  


His hand went immediately to the spot where he kept his gun. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He wanted to curse his own fucking curiosity. 

  
  
  


But since he was already in the ballroom, he might as well dance. 

  
  
  
  


He knew how to defend himself if things went sour, after all.

  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  


“Ready to go?” He was asked, a shocking hand placed on his shoulder to steer him away from looking after Kashihara like a stupidly annoying brat. 

  
  
  
  


Well, at least it was true he was currently surrounded by other persona users.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Yes.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Great! Follow me.”

  
  


He was quickly led inside the dark apartment, where instead of anything that even barely resembled a living space, there were heaps upon heaps of electronic equipment casting an eerie green glow, most of it being monitors that altogether covered an entire wall and showcased a specific area: a particular warehouse, both inside and out, and its surroundings.

_Okay, so these people were prepared._

  
  
  
  


What for? He had absolutely no idea, 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Until he saw the figure in one of the monitors.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It was too dark to see any physical characteristics, but there was someone tied up to a metal panel at the back of the warehouse, surrounded by boxes of differing sizes and metal crates. The position the person was in looked absolutely _painful,_ in the way their arms had been raised over their head and kept suspended, the way they had been forced to be on their knees on harsh concrete.

  
  


It was a pitiful sight to say the least.

  
  
  
  
  


So he had been invited to watch a rescue mission.

  
  
  
  
  


_Huh._

  
  
  
  


“Hey, Crow?” One of the people in the room, a young man, was staring at him from the entrance of what could possibly be a kitchen, but Goro wouldn’t be too surprised if it turned out it had even more cables instead of anything remotely edible. 

“Yes?” 

“Ever worn Kevlar before?”

  
  
  


_Wait, what._

* * *

**21:58**

**[Fellow redhead]:** futaba-senpai?? hi.

**[Fellow redhead]:** i wasnt sure to ask this? but you’re really important to me and i want to be there for you. 

**[Fellow redhead]:** are you okay??? can i help you with anything???

  
  
  
  
  
  


**22:15**

**[Alibaba]:** hey sumi 

**[Alibaba]:** look, i think i can trust u not to say shit

**[Fellow redhead]:** i like to believe im good with secrets!!!

**[Alibaba]:** that u are, u funky redhead

**[Alibaba]:** but basically the kira situation is a lot weirder than i expected and for the love of everything dont say anything about this

**[Alibaba]:** i dont wanna freak the others out too much but i seriously have no idea wtf is going on

**[Alibaba]:** apparently the people searching for him have something to do w personas too, n this is a mess, n i dont want the others doing harsh shit for the sake of kira and complicating shit further 

**[Fellow redhead]:** senpai, your secret is safe with me. 

**[Alibaba]:** inari says hi btw

**[Fellow redhead]:**...and with kitagawa-senpai, hahaha!!! hi!!!

**[Alibaba]:** if ur free tomorrow n wanna keep us company w the kira situation, ur welcome to

**[Fellow redhead]:** if sakura-san aproves, id love to!!!! i wanna help in any way i can to save akira-senpai!!!

**[Fellow redhead]:** does he know whats going on??? so i dont accidentally say more than i should!!

**[Alibaba]:** yeah dude dont worry

**[Alibaba]:** almost had a heart attack when i told him but hes aware and is making us dinner rn while we monitor and look for some stuff

**[Fellow redhead]:** send my regards please!!!! 

**[Fellow redhead]:** but senpai, you didn’t answer my question.

**[Alibaba]:**???

**[Fellow redhead]:** are you okay?

**[Alibaba]:** …

**[Alibaba]:** no

  
 **[Alibaba]:** not really

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are three impostors among us. Jk.
> 
> Hm wonder what Goro will need the kevlar for.
> 
> Fun fact! We have seen Uno before. Does anyone remember where? 
> 
> Fun fact 2! Shido's voice actor is the same as Tatsuya's!


	19. chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I had planned this chapter to come out in 2/2 to make things even more dramatic! But.. life happened, haha. So.. happy late 2/2?? Hahahaha!!!
> 
> Anyways!!! I hope you enjoy this new chapter!!! As always, kudos, comments, feedback, yelling, it's all loved and appreciated!!
> 
> Have a very fluffy, very lovely, completely soft chapter!!! A filler episode, nothing too big. :)

She couldn’t stop pacing around her room. 

_Only active members? Only active members her ass!_

She kept her audio feed open, but it seemed that the people from Sumaru City were also pacing around, since nobody was saying anything on either side. 

The _active members_ had already left to meet up with the rest of Akira’s rescue team, but three hours had passed by already and there weren’t any news as to how the situation was progressing, when exactly they were going to get to the warehouse, or what was going on in any shape of form. 

Being the hacker that she was, of course she had tried to access the security footage of the warehouse itself after Helios had told her where it was that past Saturday, but she had ended up empty handed, the whole system unable to be cracked through for more than just one second of footage. 

_As if it was already in use by someone else with knowledge of what they were doing._

And so, she was frustrated.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Futaba!” Called Sojiro from the living room, who was just as tense as her, asking more than once how everything was going. “Yoshizawa is here!”

  
  


_Oh, Sumire was already there?!_

  
  


She looked at herself in her bathroom mirror as she rushed to at least splash her face with some water. Sure, she had showered, but she was otherwise a mess. She was dressed in just her black shorts and a ratty hoodie, she had dark circles under her eyes, her hair color was fading--

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It had been a struggle to show up in school on Monday and pretend nothing was wrong. She kept checking her phone over and over, just in case there were any updates, but it seemed every time she asked she was answered with the same sentence, just told by different people. 

_We don’t have confirmation that Kurusu-kun has arrived yet, Alibaba-san._

  
  
  


_Fuck! Weren’t these people supposed to be good?!_

The former Phantom Thieves, as well, kept putting pressure on her with questions she couldn’t answer, as if it had somehow been her fault that Akira had disappeared. 

She. 

She knew that wasn’t the case, that they didn’t blame her, but the constant avalanche of questioning was absolutely exhausting. 

Only Sumire, dear beautiful Sumire, didn’t ask anything of her. 

  
  
  


They had spent Sunday together, alongside Inari, mostly asking as many questions as they could to the people they were monitoring, only to get back more than one empty answer. 

Her time with Sumire hadn’t been a romantic occasion, not only because of Yusuke’s presence, but because the nerves didn’t allow anything near romance to happen. The only sweet thing happening had been Sumire allowing Futaba to put her head against her shoulder while they waited for Morgana to finish explaining what he had found out so far in between bites of sushi the owner of the house he was staying in had bought for him. 

So far, what they knew were the following things:

  * One of the people from the group Akira had been talking to was actually a _shadow_ roaming the real world, which would have been a way more cool and exciting fact if Futaba hadn’t been as exhausted as she was. Instead, it had just worried her further. Morgana had assured her that despite his dislike of it, the shadow was actually quite nice, that it had a name and all, but all Futaba could think about was if that could help Akira somehow. 



  * The group these people were from wasn’t the _Nanjo Group,_ but the _Kirijo Group,_ who were basically another version of a group of persona users under the facade of a mainstream company, but these guys apparently were known by the Japanese government, while the Nanjo group was a private company. (“That’s what I got, at least.” Morgana hummed. “They’re hard to understand sometimes.”)



  * They fed Morgana amazing sushi. (“Morgana-san?” Asked Sumire, her hand moving to gently pet Futaba’s head, a gesture she pointedly attempted to _not_ melt at. “I don’t think we need to know the details of that right now. I’m happy for you, though!”)



  * On Tuesday, everything would go down.



  
  
  


When lunch came around and she could finally escape Toudou-sensei (or rather, Earring man)’s worried looks, Sumire burst inside the practically empty classroom, making a beeline towards her.

“Senpai?” She called out, to which Futaba quickly sprung up, tension all over her figure. 

“S-sumi, hey.” She tried to compose herself, at least slightly, not seem as consumed by the situation as she truly felt. But it seemed Futaba wasn’t doing a good job on that front, as Sumire’s eyes betrayed pure worry.

“Are you okay? Do you want to go have lunch outside? The sun could help you relax a bit.” _But ugh, the amount of people they would have to navigate through to get there--_

_But ugh, she wanted to spend time with Sumire._

_This was a matter of the gay vs the social anxiety vs the worry for her brother of another mother._

“Look, I don’t know.. There’s a lot of people, and I- I don’t like crowds. And I’m not in.. my hp is too depleted to withstand another hit. Sorry. You can go if you want to, I don’t mind.”

Sumire, instead of leaving, simply nodded solemnly. “Then I’ll get us food, and we’ll eat here.”

“Sumi, you don’t have to, serious-”

“No.” 

  
  
  
  


She blinked at her, surprised at the utter _finality_ her words had.

  
  
  
  


Sumire stood straighter, her head held up boldly, eyes determined. “No, Futaba, I’m staying with you, and I’m keeping you company. You don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to go through this alone.” Her tone of voice was low enough to avoid being eavesdropped on, but loud enough to get her message across.

  
  


_That.._

  
  
  


_It felt as if someone had struck an arrow straight to her heart._

  
  


Her eyes felt slightly damp. 

“Please?” Sumire’s voice faltered slightly when Futaba didn’t answer. 

  
  
  
  
  


But.. 

  
  
  


But she didn’t know what to say, outside of admiring the beautiful flame manifested in front of her.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Sumire was beautiful._

  
  
  
  


_Absolutely beautiful._

  
  
  
  
  
  


Unable to express what she truly wanted to say, she simply nodded frantically, trying to stop her face from the ugly way it managed to scrunch together in a weird way of expressing emotion. “Let’s.. let’s go get food.”

“Are you sure? I can get it and come back here, it’s no problem Senpai, really.”

She choked out a damp laugh. “No, no, let’s.” She rubbed her eyes over her sleeve, still chuckling softly at the way her heart contracted inside her chest. “Let’s go eat and talk about bullshit.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


She had taken Tuesday off, the entire day, to wait until Akira was rescued. 

  
  


To hope Akira was rescued successfully. 

  
  


To wish everything went fine. 

  
  


Sojiro had easily agreed, and had offered to keep guard with her for as long as it was needed, closing down the cafe with a sign that explained the owner was going through a _family emergency._ He was also worried out of his mind despite the neutrality on his face, his hands shaking when he had brought Futaba lunch and had sat on her bed to watch how everything was going. 

“Is the Kitagawa kid coming too?” He asked after she informed him that Sumire was coming over. 

“Yeah.”

“And the other kids?”

_She didn’t want them to do stupid things._

_This wasn’t the moment for any of them to believe they were bigger heroes than they actually were._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_They didn’t have their powers anymore._

  
  
  
  
  
  


“No, dad, they aren’t. Just in case.”

  
  


“Hm. Too many hands in one plate?”

  
  


She nodded, shooting him a weak smile.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The moment Sumire saw her, she enveloped Futaba in a tight hug, enveloping her in her wonderful perfume.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Enveloping her in a cocoon of safety. 

  
  
  


She tried not to shake too hard as she clung back to her, then quickly detached herself from Sumire, holding her arms. 

“Sen-” “Sum-”

They let out a soft chuckle.

“You first.”

“How are you?”

“Already with the hard questions, eh?” She laughed, detangling herself fully from Sumire and waving at her to come inside. “We’re waiting for any signs of life. You want something to drink?”

* * *

Yu couldn’t get out of his head Gabrielle’s smile, nor Artemis’ words. 

He couldn’t get out of his head the implications they had. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


If he had to be honest, he was worried. 

  
  
  


More worried than he attempted to let on as he led his partner, Teddie, Chie, Yukiko and Kanji to where they had been summoned for a briefing on their positions for that night’s rescue. His nails threatened to dig bloody trenches on his skin and his throat felt dry, a dryness that no matter how many times he attempted to swallow he couldn’t soothe.

  
  
  


His partner wasn’t blind, however, and he walked closer to him, bumping their shoulders together, offering Yu a reassuring smile despite the subtle jitters in his body, those he hadn’t been able to calm down.

_It’ll be fine._

  
  
  
  


_Will it?_

  
  
  
  


Yosuke glared at him.

  
  
  
  


_It will. I’ll make sure of it._

  
  
  


_But-_

  
  
  


His glaring became more intense.

  
  
  


Yu sighed. _Fine._

  
  
  


_Great! Now smile for me, please?_

  
  
  
  


Yu attempted his best smile, something that seemed to please Yosuke, who nodded, then turned to talk to a frantically texting Kanji.

  
  
  


And.. and the smile actually stuck for a while. Yosuke’s little shtick had worked, at least to make him stand up taller and feel a little better at being inside Nanjo’s maze of white hallways, white lights, occasional too open spaces, polished steel, hints of wood and way more glass than should have been physically allowed. 

  
  
  


Chie, however, didn’t seem as worried as Yu was, instead quickly dragging her girlfriend around to look at every nook and cranny of a place she had never been allowed inside of before. 

“Princess, _look at this,_ look at their cafeteria! Look at the light panels on the ceiling, _holy shit!”_ She whispered to her girlfriend, who smiled sweetly at her and also looked around. 

“Do you think we could consider those for the inn? I wonder where they got them.”

“We _have_ to ask.”

The pair was also followed by Teddie, who was just as excited, if not even more, to be inside the rather fancy office building. “Dr. Shishi never told me this place was so fancy! She knows someone in here! She told me to say hello to her if I saw her!”

The nickname made Yukiko snort out a loud laugh. _“Dr. Shishi?”_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Yu’s smile grew a little larger as he waited for them, even more so when he felt the weight of a warm hand on his own. 

“Should we call for them?”

“Nah.”

Yosuke’s hair was still slightly humid from his shower in Ayase-san’s place, but he didn’t mind, resting their heads together.

“Should we.. try to get a bagel?”

“Yeah.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


With a bagel in hand, Yu actually felt in a good mood. 

  
  


And he would’ve actually remained in that good mood! 

If it wasn’t for the sight that welcomed him, his partner and his friends the moment they all stepped inside the meeting room. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Good afternoon! Please take a seat, everyone.” Said a man dressed in muted green with a tight, barely polite smile.

* * *

Despite his experience as a detective, and the few cases he had actually been in, Goro had to confess he’d never been anywhere near the _receiving_ end of a gun until-

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Well._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_The reason he had a scar on his lower back._

  
  
  
  
  


But he had seen kevlar before, he was aware of how it worked, what it was for.

And in his list of things to do that day, getting anywhere near bullets wasn’t exactly something in there. But it seemed the question was more a request to put the goddamn kevlar vest on than curiosity, and Goro didn’t exactly want to die before he had any answers about what was going on, so.

He would wear the fucking kevlar.

  
  
  
  
  


“No, I’ve never worn it before.”

  
  


“Well, there’s a first time for everything! C’mon.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The kitchen did, indeed, turn out to not have anything edible inside. 

The remnants of what it had once been could be seen by the tiles covering the walls, the overall dimensions, the two reformed counters and distribution of the place itself, but it was currently populated by a lot more armor than Goro had expected, not only the kind of vest he was used to seeing around the police station he had been in, but helmets, gloves, masks, and several curious looking gadgets he hadn’t ever seen before.

He didn’t have time to examine any of them, however, as he was quickly ushered to try out a couple of vests to see which size would fit him best, something that wasn’t as heavy as he had anticipated, but still a hassle to put on and take off.

The people in the kitchen with him, two young men and a woman, watched in amusement how his breathing picked up just a tad more than usual while trying out the different armor. His glare didn’t deter them either, their smiles growing a tad bigger the more murderous his eyes became.

“Sorry pal, you’re not Chronos. We don’t give a shit if you try to fulminate us or not.”

_Great, he was being disrespected even more, explicitly this time!_

  
  


_…_

_Wait._

_‘Chronos’..?_

_Kashihara, he assumed?_

He was about to ask some questions and use the opportunity he had been given to finally get some information on what the fuck was up with Suou and Kashihara, but he couldn’t even open his mouth before he and the rest of the little group were called from the living room. 

“Are you done there? We don’t have all night!” 

He finished adjusting the vest on his body and followed the others out to be briefed on what he was supposed to do.

  
  
  
  


Amusedly, he wished he was currently wearing white, just to make things even more quasi nostalgic than how they already felt.

Goro didn’t have many frames of reference on acting inside a group, after all. 

* * *

He was drowning.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Constantly, eternally, copper weighing down his head and not letting him float up to safety.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The next time Akira opened his eyes, it was by the force of a slap.

“You there, _brat?”_ The tone of his assailant was vicious, as he didn’t wait a single second to land another hit on his face.

A grumble was all he could let out.

_He was thirsty._

His throat collapsed in itself, and only foam could accumulate around his tongue, as he tried his best to raise up his head. 

“Theeeere you are. That’s better. Rise and shine.”

  
  
  


_Where even was he?_

  
  
  
  


He looked around, at the old trinkets, the boxes and the crates, or at least what he could see among the darkness, the only source of light being a single open skylight all the way up on the ceiling. He trailed his eyes down from there to the mezzanine that surrounded the inside of the building, an old structure of metal that looked more like it was rotting than it was functional. 

  
  
  


_A warehouse..?_

  
  
  


“Sheesh, you look half dead. The fuck did they do to you on the way here..” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He.. he wasn’t sure. 

  
  
  


He had spent most of that time knocked out, having strange fantasy after strange fantasy, and the only times he was awake he had simply seen darkness, only hearing faint conversations about lives that weren’t his own, of children he didn’t have, salaries he didn’t earn, and casinos he didn’t go to.

He.. he had probably been bound the whole time, because in those brief moments of consciousness he could only barely feel his limbs, but couldn’t move them anywhere he pleased. Just like this moment, actually, as when he tried to feel his legs, he found out he couldn’t feel much at all outside of rough concrete on his knees. 

  
  


“You’re not useful to me dead. Here.”

A bottle of water was pressed against his lips and he didn’t waste a single second, quickly drinking from it, just in case it would be taken away from him if he took too long. Some life was returned to him through that and he sighed, feeling how his mouth could actually gesture now. 

The man looked satisfied, tossing it aside and turning back to him. 

This time, Akira registered him a little better.

  
  
  
  


A quite common looking middle aged japanese man dressed in pale blue was crouching in front of him, his black eyes cold and calculating as he took in Akira’s state. “The faster you start talking, the faster I can get rid of your pathetic ass.” He mumbled, as he adjusted Akira’s restraints.

  
  


_Well, that was fucking rude._

  
  


But it was a relief he was just being kept for questioning. At least that by getting rid of him the man meant killing him, but right then Akira’s half numb half panicked mind was trying to keep a positive mindset. 

Satisfied with how tight Akira’s bounds were, he turned back to staring at him. 

“Any idea why you’re here?”

That.. 

  
  


_Something about the Phantom Thieves, probably?_

_Something about personas?_

_Nothing strange was being done to his body yet, so he discarded the third option. For the time being._

  
  
  
  
  


“Uh.. No.” Was all he could reply. 

“Uh, _no.”_ The man mocked him, rolling his eyes as he took out his phone from his pocket. “But seriously. I must give kudos to your little friend, he’s hard to catch.” He scrolled through it in front of an increasingly confused Akira.

“I.. don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Did I say you could talk, _brat?”_ The man spat back, throwing a quick hit at Akira’s jaw, the smacking sound of flesh and the stinging pain effectively shutting him up. “Speak when I’m addressing you _only._ And only if it’s necessary for you to speak. Understood?”

“Ye-”

  
  
  
  


**_SMACK._ **

  
  
  
  


“I _said,_ only if it’s necessary for you to speak.”

  
  
  
  
  


The pain was even worse than the one before, a stinging sensation spreading through his skin.

“Understood?”

  
  


Akira nodded.

“There we go. Much better. Now.” He leaned a little closer, showing him his phone’s screen. 

  
  


The moment he saw the pictures on it, he..

He was a little confused.

  
  


_Why was he being shown pictures of a dead man?_

_When had those even been taken?_

He went through snapshots of Akechi and Akira together, at the cafe where Akira had finally felt how _soft_ his hair truly was, of them at the church laughing over a stupid thing Akira had said and hadn’t been able to filter properly before letting out. 

  
  
  
  


The both of them together standing at the train station, all soft conversation and private smiles. 

  
  
  


He glanced at the man, raising an eyebrow.

  
  
  


Akechi was dead. 

He had been dead for a while.

  
  
  


But he paid Akira no mind, and continued going through the gallery, stopping to show him something that was..

  
  
  
  
  


_What..?_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He.

  
  
  


He couldn’t believe it.

He couldn’t fucking believe it. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


In front of him was a picture of someone he had thought dead. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He had mourned him.

Thought about him every day, about the _injustice_ his death had been. 

But. 

  
  


But there he was!

  
  
  


With his hair a different color and tied up carelessly, maneuvering a mop through the floor of what looked like a rehab facility, sporting a genuine smile on his face. The man began to go through the pictures, showing him a frozen movie of someone he had ended up falling in love with enjoying a song on the radio, even taking the time to check which it was, before continuing to clean. 

  
  


“Tell me, _Akira Kurusu.”_ Began the piece of shit that was talking to him, as Akira’s mind began piecing together the reason he was there. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Since you’re the only person this fucker seems to care about, I’d find it a little weird he wouldn’t tell you where he went. He’s no longer there, but he has to be _somewhere._ Now tell me.”

Akira’s heart began to pick up the pace.

**_“Where is Goro Akechi?”_ **

* * *

As he and the rest of the group in neutral colors got out of the building, Goro went over the words he had been told. 

Apparently, since he wasn’t an _active member,_ he didn’t have access to some information that had been told to the rest of the group, but he had been assured he didn’t have to do any of it. Instead, what he was supposed to be doing was follow one of the oldest members, a tall lanky man with blue black hair and hazel eyes that had introduced himself to Goro as Ikusa, who would guide him through the demonstration and keep him _safe and sound._

Which was, in Goro’s opinion, a load of bullshit, as he could easily take care of himself and had armor on, for _fuck’s sake._

But orders were orders, and Goro was used to bureoucratic bullshit, so he would follow him despite the growing suspicion that _fucking Kashihara_ had been the one to hire him a babysitter. 

  
  


Ikusa, to make matters even worse, wouldn’t leave his side for even a second, not even as they went down the stairs alongside the rest of the group, and even less when they began to separate, first via colors, grey separating from green and brown, then into smaller teams, Goro being the only green between three shades of grey.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


As the sky’s neon pinks and angry oranges began to dull and turn into deep blue and black, Goro watched the warehouse he had seen in the many screens loom closer.

There were only two residential buildings in the immediate area, old concrete polygons that had been swallowed up by industrialization, machinery that mostly slept at night, rendering the possible inhabitants of those small buildings alone if faced with sudden issues. One stood on the block in front of the targeted warehouse, right where an unassuming black van was waiting, the other a few blocks away, both sandwiched by the origin of the consumerism chain. 

As for the warehouse itself? It was smaller than others in the area yet still imposing, large blind metallic walls and openings for transportation to go through, with only a few nooks and crannies to hide in. 

  
  


Exposed.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Ikusa quickly led the group, swiftly navigating the streets until he abruptly stopped in front of the building next to the warehouse. With a few quick gestures, he signaled them all to crouch down against a short concrete wall that separated both buildings.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


After a moment of silence, he spoke up. “Crow, here’s the deal.”

  
  


As he was addressed, he turned to carefully listen.

“The victim is going to come out from the front with the help of a persona user. Our task is to wait, and once the victim is secure, we’ll help the persona user to safety. Understood?”

  
  
  


_Huh._

_He simply had to wait?_

_Well, Goro could be quite patient._

  
  


“Understood.”

* * *

Inari arrived a while later with a bag full of clothes and a determined look on his eyes. He quickly wrapped his arms around Futaba, giving her a small reassuring smile, before greeting Sojiro and Sumire. 

  
  
  
  
  


“Alright, cool! We’re all here now, great. Let’s do this shit. I’m online with the people in Sumaru, we’re all waiting for news about Kira. C’mon.” She wasted no time getting everyone to her room, _yes, even Sojiro,_ and putting them up to date with the few news she had gotten without them. 

* * *

Naoto couldn’t stop moving, and neither could Rise. 

Over the course of a few hours, they had switched places all over Ayase-san’s guest room, impatiently waiting for _any_ sort of news from the group of active members. 

Morgana, however, instead of moving, was more busy inhaling food, going through the rice Ayase-san had prepared for him faster than it took to say the word rice itself. He kept Akira’s phone next to him, occasionally talking to Futaba while he kept his eyes on Naoto, who frantically kept checking their phone for any texts from their partner out in the city.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He.. he hoped everything went alright.

  
  
  


That Akira was found safe and sound.

* * *

It..

  
  


It felt as if someone had emptied out all of his guts and laid them on the table, bloody and disgusting, vile revolving itself in his chest. It was hard to breathe, a drop in all his system bigger than anything he had expected in his fantasies of finding _the lo-_ his rival not only alive, but **_on the run_ ** **.**

“He’s-- he’s alive?” He breathed out, feeling the burn of his sclera on the cold, harsh air of the warehouse, the tears that threatened to escape, an image that would’ve looked like horror and sorrow for anyone staring at him from the outside. “I- I thought he was dead.”

But on the inside?

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_He wanted to laugh._

  
  
  
  
  


The empty drop collided with the mess of emotions he had neglected for so long, _so fucking long_ , came in contact with the darkness inside the copper, spread itself inwards, chaos that could only create further mess in whatever it touched.

  
  
  


_The fucker had escaped._

  
  
  
  
  
  


Akira couldn’t suppress the incredulous sigh that escaped his lips.

He- _They_ thought- all of them, all of the Phantom Thieves, that he hadn’t even been given a proper burial. 

_But the fucker hadn’t needed it!_

_The fucker hadn’t needed it, and it made Akira want to laugh, cry, punch him a whole new asshole, grab Akechi’s skin and turn it inside out, destroy him and give him the biggest hug at the same time._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_(Maybe a little kiss, even.)_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


However..

  
  
  
  


The surprise on the man’s eyes matched Akira’s own. 

For a moment they stared at each other, the man’s hands shaking slightly as the surprise turned into quick acceptance, and from that it turned into _panic._

  
  
  
  
  


_Well, it seemed it had been too early for celebration, after all._

  
  
  
  
  


Akira blinked in confusion. “Uh..”

  
  
  
  
  


“You’re lying.” The man breathed out, panic rising in his veins and boiling his blood, as he quickly shook his head, rose up, and began pacing around in front of him, tightly grabbing one side of his pants.

_Why was he..?_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**_Oh._ **

  
  
  


**_Oh, fuck._ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


His own breathing picked up. 

“You’re lying, you have to be lying.” The man breathed out, his voice raising an octave, shaky hands pulling out shiny metal from in between cotton layers and pointing it towards Akira’s increasingly anxious face. “You have to be fucking lying.”

“I’m no-”

  
  


“ **_SHUT THE FUCK UP._ **”

  
  
  


Fearful anger rose up in the back of Akira’s mind, searing hot. But he obeyed, ice cold metal too close to his body for his liking. 

Emerging from rooms connected by the mezzanine, a few men watched with neutral faces Akira’s suffering.

  
  


_Fuck._

_What was he going to do? He couldn’t escape._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_(Yellow eyes flashed in the back of his mind.)_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“No- there _has_ to be a solution for this. There. There has to be a solution. I. I wasted _precious time,_ in getting your fucking-- I. Fuck. No, you have to be lying, you have to be. You have to be lying.” The shaking on his hands became more intense as he kept the gun trained on Akira, getting closer and placing it over his forehead, still moving it slightly.

  
  
  


_(It felt cold.)_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_He didn’t have a persona._

  
  


_No velvet room to save him._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_He was fucked._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_He was going to die._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Was there an afterlife?_

  
  
  


His anger left a pool of fear wherever it rose up.

  
  
  


“TELL ME THE TRUTH, YOU PIECE OF _SHIT.”_

  
  
  
  


_Was there_ **_anything_ ** _after death?_

  
  
  
  
  
  


_He hadn’t been there when Akechi had done what Shido had told him to do._

  
  


_He had just contemplated on it while he spoke to Sae._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_(The steel felt cold.)_

  
  
  


“I didn’t know he was alive, he just disappeared!”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Please tell me you’re lying.” The man begged. “Please, we- I. I need that kid, _please.”_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Words wouldn’t come out properly.

  
  
  


They entangled themselves inside his mouth.

  
  
  


He tried piecing the sounds together, catching glimpses of copper in a dark cloud of emotions that clashed against itself and burned, of the blood on the pavement, the last pieces of shared rotten treats that could still be salvaged.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The truth.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“I- I didn’t know he was alive. He got.. he got shot, and I never saw him again. I thought he had died.”

_But he was alive.. he was alive, and well._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Well enough to escape._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Akira’s heart squeezed at the thought of him having escaped the hands of these people, most likely Shido’s._

  
  
  


_Because why wouldn’t they be Shido’s? That was all the man had been useful for._

  
  
  
  


_For causing trouble to his own son._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_He wished he was alright._

  
  
  


_That he was basking in the sunlight, that he had found his true smile, even brighter in the photos he had just been shown._

  
  
  


_That it was as beautiful as Akira’s deepest fantasies could conjure up._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_That all the stormy clouds on his head finally cleared up._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_He could feel his heart picking up pace faster and faster, a rhythm that wouldn’t stop going, and going. and going, and going, and going, and going, and going andgoingandgoingandgoingandgoingandgoingandgoingandgoingandgoingandgoingandgoing_

  
  


_AND GOING_

  
  
  


_AND GOING_

  
  
  


_AND GOING_

  
  
  


_AND GOING_

  
  
  


_AND GOING_

  
  
  


_AND GOING_

  
  
  


_AND GOING_

  
  
  


_And going._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_(Fear tasted like copper and vile.)_

  
  
  
  


_And going._

  
  
  


_(Akechi’s smile felt like sunlight.)_

  
  
  
  
  
  


_And going._

  
  
  
  


_(And if the price for that sunlight had to be the blood his body would shed to keep him safe, then so it would have to be.)_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_And going._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_(If that would keep his love safe, then so would it have to be.)_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_And going._

  
  


_(Yellow eyes flashed in the back of his mind.)_

  
  
  
  
  
  


_And going._

  
  
  


The man dug the steel barrel further into his skin.

“I’ll blow your fucking brains out if you don’t tell me the truth.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


“I am.” He whispered.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Fuck, you’re _that_ willing to die for that piece of shit?!”

  
  
  


Behind the steel on his forehead, behind the man all over his face, behind the copper, the anger, the fear, the powerlessness of it all, behind his beating heart,

  
  
  
  
  


On the wall, 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


resting gracefully,

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Was a yellow butterfly.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It gently smiled at Akira’s soul, like a father that had taught his son how to walk.

A single flame that kept hope alive.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Akira’s soul smiled back.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“I am.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


He closed his eyes, and braced himself for the inevitable, as the man’s rapid breathing in reality got more and more erratic, and his words became incomprehensible, as butterflies understood nothing of humanity’s woes and misfortunes, and their death was handled with grace and serenity. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


White noise filled his mind.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


But life had other plans for Akira, and so did the yellow butterfly, as he was frantically pulled back into reality through a piercing crash of metal and concrete, the loud shout of **_“GARUDYNE!”_ ** filling the room and rupturing everything around it. 

_Another chance to fight was thrust upon him._

Colors became themselves once more and a sudden loud gust of violence sweeped the room, as the steel that had been digging on his forehead was suddenly lifted off with a booming slam of the man’s body against one of the metal crates. _Garu-what?!_ Wind visibly, viciously, filled the warehouse, a display that looked absolutely impossible out of the Metaverse, but _there it was, happening right in front of him._ He couldn’t stop his eyes from bulging out of their sockets as the man was knocked out from one hit, laying his head down over his chest, gun discarded haphazardly on the floor. 

_What the fuck-_

People on other sides of the warehouse wasted no time rushing to their coworker’s rescue, loading up their own guns and beginning to shoot, rushing down the metal stairs and showering the newcomers with fast bullets. There was a knowledge and a panic on their eyes, as if they were already aware of _what exactly_ they were being attacked by.

And Akira couldn’t believe it. 

He couldn’t fathom it. 

But the creature floating above his head had to be real, _it seemed real!_

**_“YOUTHFUL WIND!”_ ** Was what Yosuke shouted as he ran towards Akira, grey boots gripping the concrete easily, eyes focused on him and him alone. Obeying his every command was what he could only describe as a _persona,_ a creature tall, translucid and beautiful, flaming hair lighting up the room and imbuing it in a shade of bloody red. It casted a glowing net over the other persona users, leaving Akira to gawk at the display and try to puzzle it in his head. His heart was killing him, loud and fast beating worsening when Yosuke rushed up to him and, using two blades, swiftly cut through Akira’s restraints. 

_What was going on, was he dead?!_

_What was going on!_

He fell over himself as he was trying to breathe properly, helped quickly by Yosuke’s arms, which grabbed him and lifted him up.

“Akira, buddy, are you with me?” His tone was of concern amongst the loud chaos around them, but all Akira could do was weakly nod, slumping against him the moment he was on his feet. Some of the men attacking the persona users had been left without bullets, and while those who still had what to shoot with threw ammunition their way, they had to be resourceful, taking parts of the old items around them and throwing them in an attempt to stop the supernatural beings and their users from coming closer. 

Attempts that, of course, barely managed to cause a scratch on them.

He looked around, fascinated, as Yosuke helped him towards Yukiko, who rushed towards him and quickly enveloped him in a pink fuzzy blanket, forcing his head to duck down and dodge a piece of flying wood as she silently made her persona, a golden avian being, set on fire anything that could be flammable near their foes. Cardboard boxes became funeral pyres, wood became light, metal began to heat up, and as a large, absolutely _massive_ dark purple persona hit another successful hit, making the man land headfirst on raw concrete with a loud thud, another skillfully tied up the foe in question, rendering him unable to even move a single finger.

_And Akira.._

Akira couldn’t believe it. 

The vile in his mouth accumulated, but so did the excitement and the fear, as he realized he not only _wasn’t alone,_ but he was.. he was surrounded by persona users that could use them in reality. _HOW. HOW?!_ He had absolutely no idea, but he wasn’t the only one anymore, and the tears that threatened to well up in his eyes were becoming more and more prominent, his hands tightly clutching the blanket as he was quickly lifted into the air, covered by Yukiko’s glowing presence and the golden being that surrounded them, its wings resembling a pair of translucent metal fans. She adjusted him to a bridal position, giving him her most motherly, reassuring smile, the persona a golden halo above her head. 

  
  
  
  


Akira felt like he could cry at any second now. 

  
  
  


“Ready to go?” She whispered to him.

  
  
  


He could only nod. 

She nodded back, turning to look at Chie, who had her grip tight on one of the men thrashing against her, while her persona wreaked havoc on anything else that could be at hand. “Go! We’ll hold them back!”

And Yukiko ran, while Akira watched in awe everything that was happening around him.

  
  
  
  


For a second, he caught Yu’s face through the mess of bullets and unfathomable attacks.

He..

He was beautiful.

  
  
  
  


Glowing, golden, gorgeous, 

  
  


_Sunlight itself._

  
  
  
  
  
  


His silver hair reflected the red around him, giving him the glow of a God, as bullets didn’t seem to faze him, digging painfully on his pale skin yet never stopping him, blood trickling down from each wound that attempted, supernaturally, to repair itself and dissolve the metal. 

  
  


A display of raw, unfathomable, immeasurable power.

  
  
  
  
  


Akira felt his heart squeezing, drops of love crystalizing inside of him.

  
  


Yu gave him a blindingly beautiful smile as Yukiko carried him to the front of the warehouse, and--

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Did the thing Akira thought only he and Akechi were capable of doing.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**_“PERSONA, HACHIMAN!”_ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When he saw the switch, a new glorious form appearing, a light being surrounded by thick clouds that should have been impossible to believe if he wasn’t looking at them with his own eyes,

  
  


Akira felt the seeds of adoration fully, _intensely,_ blooming inside his heart. 

* * *

The air around the warehouse had begun to become hotter and hotter, to the point Goro became slightly restless, clutching his gun tightly from his secluded spot as he watched more and more people enter it in a panicked frenzy and _nobody come out._

Next to him was Ikusa, who kept an arm over his chest to keep him down and away from making rash decisions. They remained quietly watching, as more and more men began gathering on the outside and loudly discussing what the hell to do.

_And well. Goro could be patient._

_He really could._

But the situation had turned into a fucking mess, he hadn’t seen Kashihara since he last said goodbye to him, and he had no idea if they had actually gotten the victim out yet-- 

But just as he had thought that, the front door was brutally kicked open, and out came a being that _shouldn’t have existed out of the Metaverse._

_What the fuck.._

Goro’s eyebrows shot up as far as they could as he watched from his dark spot how a huge golden being resembling a large humanoid bird protected with its wings a woman carrying on her arms someone covered in a pink blanket. It was immense, translucent limbs bigger than any bird Akechi knew, glowing as if it was rupturing reality further and further the more time it was used.

**_That’s what a persona in the real world looked like?!_ **

  
  
  


That..

_Holy fuck._

  
  
  


The user wasn’t any less impressive. She looked like fire itself, rushing through the pavement with a strength unimaginable for someone with her figure, long black braided hair trailing after her, eyes lit like flames. 

Agility itself.

The moment she dismissed her persona, she was surrounded by the figures Goro had been introduced to, shades of grey rushing to take from her hands the victim, the person that had been forced on their knees for who knows how long, who had now been wrapped around in a cocoon of safety. 

At first Goro couldn’t see their face, too overwhelmed by others to be seen properly, but the moment they were handed off to one of the men in grey, the blanket fell from their head, revealing-

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Goro’s mind filled with static the moment he saw jet black curls.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Akira?_

* * *

He felt exhausted. 

As Yukiko handed him off to other people he barely protested, only grumbling slightly when the blanket fell off of his head, looking around at the environment around him. 

Adrenaline still pulsed through his veins, but Yukiko’s soothing presence had made him feel just the slightest bit better, and so the agility and strength that came with it had begun to wash off. He glanced around, at the many, _many_ people that had come to his rescue, and smiled slightly.

  
  


These people he barely knew.. they had risked their lives for him.

Supernatural heroes of justice, clean and mighty, in real life.

  
  
  


He..

  
  
  


He felt loved.

  
  
  
  
  


As other people began charging towards them, figures in black and white carrying even more ammunition, in between all the mess, he closed his eyes and let himself be taken to safety. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_(Only barely missing the rising familiar figure trying to reach out to him.)_

* * *

_What was_ **_Akira fucking Kurusu_ ** _doing here?!_

  
  


**_He_ ** _was the victim?_

  
  
  


_Did._

  
  
  


_Did Kashihara know of this._

_Did anyone know of this._

_Was this a coincidence?_

  
  
  
  


_Did Kurusu know he was alive?_

**_Did Kurusu know he was alive?_ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


There was only static in his mind.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**“CROW, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!”**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Before anyone could grab him and force him to hide once more, an arm wrapped tightly around his waist, lifting him up. 

“Gotcha.” The very, _very_ familiar man whispered in Goro’s ear, snapping him back to reality, frantically turning around and finding himself face to face with a pair of dark brown eyes, straight black hair, and a triumphant little grin.

Steel was placed right against his fucking skull by one of Shido’s old bodyguards Goro was most acquainted with. 

  
  
  


The man that had picked him up more than once to see his fucking father, who had been sent as protection for a few of his interviews.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Always a calm, jovial man.

  
  
  
  
  


Had a wife, two kids, one of them Goro’s age.

  
  
  


He had defended him from a fangirl mob a few years back. 

  
  
  
  
  


A man that knew very, _very well_ what his face looked like up close, without the makeup, without the editing. 

  
  


One of the few who could recognize him no matter how much he changed his hair, how much makeup he put on.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“How the- What the fuck- _Sawada?!”_

“Surprise! I got a raise.”

“I can see that, you fucking asshole!” He began to thrash against the tight grip, trying to reach his gun. 

  
  
  


_He wasn’t gonna die like this._

_He wasn’t gonna_ **_fucking_ ** _die like this._

_No._

_NO._

_He wasn’t going to die by the hands of one of Shido’s men. He_ **_refused._ **

_He wasn’t going to die like a fucking rat--_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Gunshots were always deafening when they weren’t silenced. Even then, they could be noisy.**

  
  
  
  
  
  


**But this time, Goro barely heard anything before blood landed on his cheeks.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the very cute episode!! Not much happened, did it?
> 
> :)


	20. chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.
> 
> Goro fucks around and finds out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shows up too many days late with starbucks in hand* why, hello. welcome to chapter 20!!!!!!!!
> 
> If you hadn't noticed, we finally have a final chapter on sight!!!!!!! And you may be like, "Wait, Luna, how are you gonna tie so many plot threads in what's left?" Well, I have a little announcement, but that's for chapter 25's opening note to say!!!!!
> 
> Okay, so. On the subject of this chapter being this late. I must apologize. 
> 
> Sadly, things happened in reality that made me not feel good enough to write, and it slowed everything down. A few incidents with people in my life that made me feel demotivated as a person. 
> 
> But I'm back!!!!!!!! And as you may be able to notice, this story has taken a tonal shift, which may be apparent on this chapter. To those that will still follow my story down this new path, welcome! And to those who won't, thank you for having followed this far. I'm extremely grateful for all the support this fic has gotten, especially it being the first thing I ever posted to ao3 (yeah i had this account for years and never posted!!!) Thank you.
> 
> As always, comments, kudos, screaming, it's all welcome. 
> 
> Thank you for following Sunlight.
> 
> TW FOR GRAPHIC VIOLENCE.

**(Tw for graphic violence.)**

* * *

Death in the Metaverse was something elegant. 

  
  
  


It was weightless and unimportant, a fatal injury was easily brushed off, a broken rib quickly ignored, and bloodshed didn’t matter.

Shadows fell gracefully on their knees and turned into viscous ash, exploding in a flurry of deep desires and sinful machinations. Even when Goro had put a bullet on the head of someone he had thought real, the wound had been clean and perfect, a head falling on top of a..

_ Of a.. fuck!  _

  
  


_ Fuck. _

Of a pool of viscous dark red.

Death had meant nothingness for Goro, for a long time. Even when he died, the pain had been clean and impeccable, only the gruesome scar on his back to show what had happened.

The blood under his nails had felt hot and searing, but.

_ Fuck. _

It had been an inconvenience, at most.

  
  


Deaths born from mental shutdowns had been easy to ignore, it had been easy to turn the channel, or think in numbers.

In abstract suffering.

_ Abstract. _

_ Weightless. _

_ Artificial. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ Fuck. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Sawada’s skull cracked like a particularly fragile egg.

_ Like it was absolutely nothing. _

  
  


Blood wasted no time to come out, not falling down gracefully but instead spraying everywhere in a gruesome display of impermanence Goro couldn’t help but gawk at. 

It was ugly, vulgar, and absolutely  _ terrifying,  _ as the bullet made the man’s head into an unrecognizable pulp in a second, bone breaking under pressure from an insignificant piece of metal. To make matters even worse, for just a moment, the dead man’s grip on Goro tightened, the recoil from sudden death suffocating and inescapable, forcing him to look at the absolutely disgusting display of death in real life.

  
  


A whole life ended just like that, with blood on Goro’s cheeks, and parts of brain matter, thoughts, feelings, _ a whole subconscious world, _ entangled on his hair, now rendered useless.

  
  
  


_ And that was it. _

  
  
  
  
  
  


The curtain fell, 

  
  
  
  
  


And Goro’s mortified body went down with the cadaver.

  
  
  
  


The impact didn’t matter, concrete feeling distant compared to the  _ thing  _ he was staring at, no longer having that many recognizable features save for the lower part of his mouth and fragments of his skull that hadn’t managed to shatter, skin and muscle haphazardly thrown over them.

  
  
  


_ Fuck. _

His chest was killing him. 

  
  


And,  _ fuck,  _ was he glad it wasn’t daytime.

_ Fuck, the hit had landed perfectly despite it not being daytime.  _

  
  


He wanted to puke. 

  
  


His heart was killing him.

  
  


His head hurt. 

  
  


Fuck, was he shaking?

  
  


His hand wouldn’t leave his gun, clutching it as tightly as he could.

  
  
  
  
  


**“CROW!”**

  
  


A distant voice yelled at him, as he kept his eyes trained on the man that had just died, unable to move his lifeless arms away from his body. 

  
  
  


Well, at least he now knew perfectly that he hadn’t murdered Kurusu, because  _ this  _ hadn’t happened at all. 

  
  
  


He was.. 

  
  


He was very fucking glad he hadn’t killed Kurusu that day.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**“CROW,** **_FUCK. Fuck. Come here, c’mon.”_ **

  
  
  
  
  


Everything felt so detached.

  
  
  


He barely processed being ripped away from the cadaver and lifted up, Ikusa quickly coaxing him to be on his feet. Soon he was up, his head killing him as he was suddenly thrust back into a complete  _ mess,  _ Ikusa’s persona, a decaying humanoid with its entire head covered by a straw cone, freezing everything on their path, the two men that were charging towards them quickly swallowed by sudden hypothermia, giving enough time for bullets to be snugly buried in their vital organs. 

Anger spilled through all his pores as he tugged Goro along through a quickly escalating mess, the first licks of fire beginning to reach the outside of the warehouse, and the persona user that had helped  _ Akira  _ to safety being quickly led away by a different group to cover for Goro’s fatal mistake as a shower of metal rained over them. 

  
  


Shido’s men wasted no time retaliating, managing to dig bullets in more than one persona user, who despite the obvious pain kept fighting, producing more than one injury, but letting them run off and back away from the site, making it a point not to follow if they got out of the perimeter that had been informally assigned as a battlefield. 

At the same time, the group of persona users that had been inside the warehouse were rushed out of the way as soon as possible through the escalating fire and destruction, led behind it and to a spot Goro wasn’t able to properly see amongst the chaos from grey figures running around and destroying.

  
  
  


Goro could feel the shiver in his back at the sound of cracking bones and the impossibility of the supernatural wreaking havoc. 

Which got  _ even worse  _ as he got to see how the group in  _ green  _ integrated in this mess, a swarm of locusts going through the violence grey produced, their personas a lot more materialized and with real proportions--

_ Were those personas, even? _

  
  


Because he sure as hell never had to feed Loki before. 

  
  


These creatures, however, were summoned to **_eat,_** something they wasted no time doing to the cadavers that had been produced, quick chunks of flesh broken and swallowed with absolutely no hesitation. 

  
  
  
  


Goro felt like he had stumbled upon something he wasn’t supposed to see. 

Not yet.

  
  
  
  
  


Something that perhaps could’ve been avoided, if it hadn’t been for the first fatal bullet.

  
  
  
  


_ (At least Akira was safe.) _

  
  
  


_ (Catching himself thinking that threw him off for a loop. But that was. That was how he felt. Glad.  _

_ The sensation crawled up his back uncomfortably, disgustingly, painfully.) _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ (Was this the current state of persona users not playing in a sick God organised game? Playing along in yet another sick entertainment, this time an arms race to get… more persona users? He. He couldn’t understand why this was happening. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ Was this everything being a persona user amounted to?) _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ But he had been taken away from the midst of battle, at least for a moment. _

  
  
  
  


Only then, sitting behind the small concrete wall he relaxed his eyes from how they were attempting to bulge out from his face and managed to breathe a little better. 

The other two members of the little team he had arrived with looked at him with concern and attempted to reach out to soothe him.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**But Ikusa was having none of it.**

Pushing the others aside he grabbed Goro, seething anger all over his face. “What the fuck were you thinking?! Do you  _ realise  _ what you just did, you piece of-”

“Hibari-” Another team member, a gentle looking woman, tried to interrupt him.

“No. No, don’t fucking  _ Hibari  _ me, Kohryu. This piece of shit almost got himself, and  _ me, trying to fucking get him back,  _ killed. If. If you weren’t under fucking  _ Chronos, _ I would send you to the same place the guy holding you went to. The fuck did he see in you?! Do you even have a brain?!”

“Sheesh, Ikusa, calm down, you don’t need to insult him like that.”

“Did you not see what happened?!” The man’s voice turned slightly hysterical, as Goro watched with slight detachment, his brain not completely  _ there  _ yet.

It was still in Akira’s curls. 

In the gunshot.

In Akira, being the victim. 

In a dead man laying on cold concrete.

In a fake Akira he had put a bullet through.

In his actions.

  
  
  


_ In Akira. _

_ Akira, Akira, Akira, Akira- _

  
  
  
  


“You obviously didn’t see  _ shit,  _ because  _ I  _ was the one who had to get this,  _ this fucker  _ back here!”

  
  
  
  


_ Would he even see Akira again? _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Chronos will have my head,  _ my fucking head!” _

“He isn’t that bad, Hi-- Ikusa, seriously! You’re making a bigger deal of this than it needs to be!”

Ikusa let out a hysterical, incredulous laugh. “You  _ obviously  _ haven’t worked with him before.  _ I  _ have, before teaming up with you. I know the guy, and he’s _ terrifying.  _ Very fucking hot, but  _ terrifying.” _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ He.  _

  
  


_ (He felt the unwanted desire to talk to Akira again.) _

  
  


_ (But wouldn’t it be damning for him?) _

  
  


_ How did he end up getting himself kidnapped? _

  
  
  
  


_ For once, the great golden child of the universe hadn’t outsmarted anyone. Instead, he had lost, had ended up pathetically on his knees.  _

_ But.. what had happened? Why? _

  
  


_ Why had..  _

_ (He wanted to puke.) _

_ Why had Sawada grabbed him? He knew Shido’s men were after him, but. _

  
  
  
  
  


“And,  _ fuck,  _ I had one job,  _ one!  _ FUCK!” Ikusa seemed to be getting more and more restless, as he buried his hands in his hair, tugging it slightly, before turning to Goro. “Our job,  _ crow,  _ although I should call you a fucking amoeba or some shit, is to make things  _ easier for the reserve team. Not harder.” _

“Ikusa, dude, stop. Chronos was gonna do his job anyways, this doesn’t change anything. Stop portraying him like he’s a fearless warrior or something, he’s just a guy.”

“Are you. Did you even fucking hear me? I’ve  _ worked  _ with the guy. I know him. And I know,  _ very well,  _ that he’ll have my head.”

  
  
  
  
  


_ People had seen Goro out and about with Akira. _

  
  
  
  


“Do you understand the  _ consequences  _ this will have?! It took  _ so long  _ to get where I am!”

  
  
  
  
  


_ People had seen them in the train station, waiting to be taken to their respective schools. _

_ They had seen the way those jet black curls got disrupted by the train’s arrival.  _

_ Had seen their polite conversation, but not the fight under it. _

  
  


_ Never the hatred, the anger, the rot. _

  
  
  
  
  


_ Just the smiles between them. _

  
  
  
  


_ And that… _

_ Shit. _

  
  


**_Shit._ **

  
  
  


He looked at the group angrily arguing in front of him, their words muddling and turning into a bloody mess, resembling the destruction that still clung to his skin, fetid and disgusting, accompanied by chunks of the same conceptual thing Goro had spent years running inside of. And..

  
  
  
  
  


And he felt afraid. 

Numb, yet afraid. 

Exhausted, a lot more than he had expected. 

With Akira still in his mind, and the probability that he had been taken as a way to lure Goro out. 

  
  
  


_ Shido’s men had already failed once in finding him, after all. _

_ They had, in their incompetence, let Goro escape in the night.  _ Had this been a second attempt?

  
  
  


_ But how did Akira end up in Sumaru? _

_ How did they know  _ **_Goro_ ** _ was in Sumaru? _

_ Had this been a coincidence? _

_ An unfortunate blunder of fate? _

_ A new God approved game? _

  
  
  


He had left Akira alone with the purpose of not ruining his life, but hah, he hadn’t even succeeded in  _ that  _ regard!

  
  


It felt like a lifetime ago he had woken up in front of a lonely stadium, feeling the sun warming pavement he had felt disgusted touching.

  
  


And there he was now, sitting on the same thing that had disgusted him, because after so many different shades of suffering, at this point Goro barely cared where exactly he was laying so much as he could get out of his head the gruesome sight from a few moments before.

  
  


He..

He had been so close to that first bullet. 

  
  


That.. just a few inches and  _ he  _ could’ve been that cracked skull. 

  
  
  
  
  


The thought..

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ Huh. _

  
  
  
  
  


Hadn’t he..

Hadn’t he wanted death to take him before? End his misery and bury it, send his soul to the deepest ends of Hell like he deserved, like the monster that he was, the cause for suffering for so many? Yet the moment he saw that bullet pierce through that head, Goro felt..

  
  
  


Slightly afraid of death. 

  
  
  
  


Slightly more attached to life.

  
  
  
  
  
  


He.. he had caused something like that.

Many times.

Deaths born from mental shutdowns had been easy to ignore.

  
  


_ (What about Sawada’s family?) _

  
  


It had been easy to turn the channel, or think in numbers.

  
  


_ (What about the families he had destroyed?) _

  
  


In abstract suffering.

  
  


_ Abstract. _

  
  


_ Weightless. _

  
  
  


_ Artificial. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**_Fuck._ **

  
  


Next to him, Ikusa glared daggers, which Goro finally caught completely, his eyebrows instinctively raising at the sheer fury in the man’s words. “I expect the rest of the night going  **_smoothly.”_ **

And Goro didn’t blame him for being angry. He had been a fucking idiot, a pattern that seemed to be repeating more and more after his resurrection. And what the fuck did these people know why he had reacted the way he did? 

He wasn’t about to tell them his complicated past with Akira, nor tell them how his chest acutely ached the moment he saw him once more in the flesh, still beautiful,  _ fucking beautiful,  _ despite his suffering, despite the most likely sudden crash of his entire worldview through flashy spells and real life impossibilities. 

He nodded at Ikusa. “Of course.”

“Don’t say of course like if it was a given and I’m not expecting you to pull another idiotic move. I don’t know what the fuck Chronos saw in you, powerful persona or not.”

And he could’ve sharpened his tongue, said a couple of choice words. Exposed clear insecurities in his own performance, the fear he seemed to have towards Kashihara, anything and everything that could work as an effective attack.

He could’ve asked questions, mainly related to  _ how  _ he knew he had a powerful persona, how Ikusa’s own had awakened, how things worked,  _ why exactly had that bloodshed been performed. _

  
  


_ Why Goro had been saved, despite his idiocy. _

_ Why the sniper’s bullet, the only thing capable of producing a hit from that height and with that amount of force, hadn’t landed on his own head. _

  
  


But he had nothing to say, as his impulsive failure had begun to dawn further and further on him.

“I understand.”

“You don’t.”

“Hibari, please.” The woman interrupted, her gentle voice attempting to soothe Ikusa, who’s frown deepened the more she attempted. “He wasn’t thinking.”

“I don’t get it. I just don’t get it. I don’t get how you could fuck up instructions as clear as  _ sit down and wait.  _ We didn’t expect you to attack, or go running around. All you had to do was watch, and you went ahead and fucked up something as simple as that.”

“I..”

The way he was being berated reminded him eerily of situations past, and he was going to ask for further forgiveness, let the sugary sludge in his throat clump and perform disasters, when the sounds of offensive fire stopped, only pacing, snarls and growls remaining.

  
  
  
  
  
  


For a moment, chaos reduced.

  
  
  
  
  
  


But the noise of humanity with their grudging tasks remained, the sounds of retreating fire and cowards leaving the premises, running for their own lives as the only ones who survived in these situations were those with a lack of ego and a lack of faith on their own offensive capabilities.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Silence began to settle.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


And Ikusa’s expression, half shrouded in shadow, betrayed his anxieties. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“I guess it’s safe to come out.” Kohryu whispered.

“He’ll have my head.” Ikusa whispered back, still mortified. “He’ll have my fucking head.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Goro remained silent.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The group waited for a moment.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Dude, let’s just get out there. It’ll be worse if we don’t.”

“I..” Ikusa let out a soft pained noise. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Mistakes began to settle in Goro’s body. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Hibari-kun..” Kohryu’s wording remained gentle.

“Kyoko, I.”

“It’s okay. It’ll be okay. Chronos will understand.”

“I’ll be with you, man. Kyoko-chan too. We’ll stay by your side.”

“Exactly.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Suddenly, one of the men in green walked over to them, cold disdain all over his face. “Are you done crying?”

  
  


And Goro wanted to snarl at him, yell, ask him if he was a  _ fucking monster, couldn’t he wait for a second?  _

  
  


But then he realised the current disdain was  _ his  _ fault.

  
  
  
  
  
  


He felt small.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Ikusa took a deep breath and stood up, helping his teammates up and walking to the man in green, leaving Goro to stand up by himself. “Chronos and Apollo are waiting, come on.”

* * *

The whole situation had gotten out of hand.

As Tatsuya silently packed the rifle, Jun kept his face between his hands, still sitting on the same spot he had been firing on inside the bedroom.

He couldn’t believe how quickly things had escalated.

And of course, mistakes and ill thinking could happen, but from someone like Akechi, with that silent track record? Doing something as  _ reckless  _ as what he had just pulled?

It felt heavy on his shoulders, his body count gaining a few more numbers that he had calculated. And sure, these people weren’t saints, he was fully aware this was a kill or be killed situation in the name of protecting those they were hired to, the dirty part of the work, a bloody mess handsomely compensated as if money could patch up the rope burns.

  
  
  
  
  


He fucking  _ hated _ being tied down to this job.

  
  
  
  
  
  


But at least he was happy with his choice of not taking the role of a field player for this mission. 

He was begged a few times to be part of the field and he had refused, the fear of somehow losing Tatsuya being greater than any possible advantages he could have being in the midst of the mission. He could control his aim from a distance, be the support for fresh faces, and cause less mayhem than Tatsuya and him could cause when their powers were let loose in a battlefield.

But instead,  _ that  _ had happened.

  
  
  
  
  
  


And he truly,  _ deeply,  _ regretted involving the kid.

  
  
  
  


At least Akechi had been able to see Kurusu, but the plan had been different.

  
  
  
  
  


Sweeter, fluffier.

  
  
  
  
  
  


A good ending where as few as possible lives were taken, nothing was set on fire, the victim was quickly reunited with his friend (perhaps his love), mayhem was kept to a minimum, and a message was sent to the People’s Security Party. 

  
  
  


Well, they had sure as hell sent **_a_** message with that.

  
  
  
  


He wasn’t completely sure if he wanted to find out  _ which kind. _

  
  
  
  


And their letter, sadly, wasn’t finished. He hoped there had been some people left to question on what the fuck these guys were up to this time around.

  
  
  
  


He could hear Tatsuya coming closer, awkwardly shuffling, at this point knowing him for  _ so long  _ he could feel him debating how to proceed in his head. “Valentine-”

“Tatsuya.” He acknowledged, raising his head slightly from between his hands.

It was all the confirmation his husband needed, quickly wrapping his arms around him and bringing Jun’s breaking face towards his stomach, where he could hide his shame. 

  
  
  
  
  


He didn’t cry.

He didn’t need to. 

He had been violent thousands of times, over and over, since he was in school and first cracked a kid’s head against the bathroom wall for being called a f-

  
  
  
  


“Valentine, I know you know the kid a little better, but is he really uh.. suitable for this?”

  
  


_ Was Akechi sutiable for this? _

  
  


“I honestly thought he was. I wouldn’t have invited him otherwise. The Phantom Thieves, they pulled off so many things seemingly so seamlessly. You saw the news, Tacchi. I thought this would be easy for him, you know? It was simply a watch job, I even put someone to take care of him, yet neither managed to see a clear menace nearby them. No perception of surroundings, nothing.”

Akechi’s stupidity had caused him to have to quickly kill, which then escalated into a series of chain reactions, from people still attempting to get Akechi, to others who had a renewed sense to kill attempting to get their hands in at least  _ one  _ of the persona users in the area. 

From there, it had turned into complete mayhem. 

“Jun..”

“Let me hug you properly, please.”

  
  
  
  
  


Not a single tear was shed as Jun rose up and clung tightly to his husband, who rocked them together gently, embracing him in warm security and comforting cologne.

“You pulled off a great headshot, tho.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at that, despite the horrifying reality of what he was being complimented on. “It was quite neat, wasn’t it?”

“It was. I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, love.”

Tatsuya gently began to untangle Jun’s braid, allowing his black hair to threaten to cover his eye once more, except with a slight curl pattern, which his husband began to brush off with his fingers.

They stayed silent as he did that, allowing Jun to close his eyes and let out a tired sigh. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He wasn’t sure if he wanted to see the barely concealed anger in Tatsuya’s gaze, or realize it was simply a reflection of his own.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The night wasn’t over, nor was the mess Akechi had gotten them in, but they could take things one at a time. 

  
  
  


As they separated and left their equipment packed and ready to go, Jun took a moment to look at himself through his phone’s screen and let his features harden once more.

  
  


An authority couldn’t look weak, after all. 

Especially after something like this.

* * *

Red crayon covered the walls.

It dripped slowly, wax melting and transforming, walls pulsing like a lukewarm heart. The color twisted and turned, from vermillion to carmine, from passion to hatred, from makeup to blood.

A constant chaos that echoed the one inside his heart.

And he could’ve reacted in any other way,

  
  


But he felt calm, simply turning around to examine the room a little further, only to find himself with a figure sitting in the corner. That..

_ Was that Akechi’s former persona? One of them at least. _

It seemed so, its menacing grin getting just a little bit sharper when recollection visibly passed through his body. Its red braids floated lazily around it and pulsated, almost as if beckoning him.

But if the persona was there, then where was the user? The room was only that big, and there was nowhere to hide. But no matter how much he looked, Akira couldn’t seem to find him.

All there was in front of him was the killing machine. 

It glitched slightly, for a moment being something else, pitch black and terrifying, before turning back into striped shame, only covered in a lot more eyes than before, all trained on him.

_ Waiting. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When he came back to his senses he was inside a car, surrounded by people in grey whispering among themselves. Exact features and even accurate colors were hard to see in the dark of the night, but flashes of artificial light filtering through the windows let glimpses show through.

_ Had.. had he imagined all of that? He hadn’t been rescued after all? _

  
  


But he wasn’t tied up.

And the display of heroism he had been a witness to couldn’t simply be born from a whim in his mind.

So he rose up, something that startled the others, but Akira wasn’t simply going to wait until they got comfortable, instead quickly demanding to know where he was and who they were. 

He expected to see at least Yukiko’s face with him, after all. 

  
  


The person closest to him, a young woman, shot him a disarming smile despite Akira’s elbow separating her from coming anywhere near his core body. She kept her gaze calm, as if she was dealing with a startled animal, as she slowly explained who they were, what they were, and where they were taking him.

“Kurusu-kun? My name is Hariti. It’s great to finally meet you. Your friends called us, you know? To help get you back.”

  
  
  


_ That,  _ reminded him that Yukiko had handed him off. In that moment he had been barely awake, instead simply taking in colors and shapes, still throughly shook not only by the fact that he had been kidnapped, tortured, questioned and then rescued all in a couple of days, but that something  _ huge  _ had been dropped on him.

  
  
  


_ The fact that Akechi was alive. _

_ Akechi was fucking alive.  _

  
  
  
  


When he attempted to rub his hands together to feel the familiar leather and make it creak softly, feel the now a lot more real promise that one day they’d have their rematch, he-

  
  
  


He realised he didn’t have it on. 

He didn’t have the glove on. 

Where was the glove?

He looked around frantically, something that made the woman stop her explanation and look at him in concern. “Are you looking for something, Kurusu-kun?”

“My glove, where is it-- what did you do with it?”

“Your..glove? When your friend handed you over, you had no gloves Kurusu-kun.”

  
  
  


_ The people who had kidnapped him.. they had taken his glove? Had it fallen during his struggle? Ripped off while a bunch of assholes tied him up like cattle? _

  
  
  


_ No. _

  
  
  


_ No, he had promised Akechi he was going to keep it, he promised they were going to have that rematch, and for the rematch he needed the glove, he needed it, they were supposed to be rivals and keep that connection, what. What excuse did Akira have now to seek him? What excuse did he have to find him again? _

_ He was going to find him again, of course. _

_ No matter what, since the fucking asshole hadn’t even told him he was alive all this time. _

_ Not even a single letter, something to let him know. Sure, he was on the run, but. _

**_Akira had mourned him._ **

_ He had waited for him. _

  
  
  


(Silent anger began to sizzle in the back of his mind.)

  
  
  
  


Concerned faces surrounded him.

  
  


Waited for him to react.

  
  
  


He couldn’t find the glove anywhere.

He couldn’t find it at all.

He continued searching, movements slightly more desperate, until he simply..

Grew tired, in the same way his mind still refused to fully process what had just happened.

He sat back, in a sudden jerking motion that had everyone even more concerned.

But what was he supposed to do?

They said he didn’t have them on when Yukiko had grabbed him. 

He had felt around for it anyways and couldn’t find it.

  
  


And sure, his red glove was missing as well, but that wasn’t important, that one was stupid, annoying and replaceable, a tool and a hollow husk.

  
  
  
  
  


But the black one was irreplaceable. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ (Precious enough to rewrite reality for.) _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“...Nevermind. I’ll just- I’ll just get new gloves.” He gave the group, especially the woman speaking to him, a small smile.

(Gentler than the cold anger in his eyes.)

* * *

The group Goro trailed behind of seemed to be walking towards a prison sentence. They didn’t speak much amongst themselves, silence being filled at most with Ikusa’s whispers to himself that everything was going to be fine.

Around them, the people in green glared holes through them, barely restrained monstrous creatures holding by the collar their nonhuman companions. alongside them were others sitting in small groups getting bullets removed off their skin, who didn’t give the group the time of d- _ night,  _ but nonetheless still radiated hostility. 

Goro tried to pay them no mind, instead tried to focus on how chilly the night air out in the open had gotten once the fire in the warehouse had been effectively controlled, but it was almost impossible due to the sheer  _ looks  _ he was being given. A few people were friendly, sure, giving a few waves, but there was that  _ edge. _

  
  


_ That all Goro had been told to do was watch. _

  
  


Right at the entrance of the warehouse were two men, fully tied up and with cloth bags over their head, custodied by two people in brown. 

_ Well, at least not everyone that remained closest to the warehouse had died.  _

  
  
  
  
  


And finally, just a few meters away, in a small circle, mostly shrouded in the dark and surrounded by his partner and other people, was Kashihara.

_ Chronos. _

  
  
  
  
  
  


Ikusa visibly tensed the moment he spotted him.

  
  
  
  
  
  


And Goro.. 

  
  


Goro couldn’t really blame him.

  
  
  
  
  


_ Was that really Kashihara? _

  
  
  
  
  


It was. It definitely was, as the moment the warehouse’s scarce outside light hit him and Suou their features were clearly recognizable, both men in all their otherworldly glory standing perfectly straight and composed.

  
  


But there was..

  
  
  


There was  _ something  _ in the both of them that made Goro have to blink twice to recognize them, and hold himself back from a visceral reaction.

  
  


_ The sheer pained hostility in their faces. _

  
  


The other members in the small circle the pair had disenfranchised from quickly surrounded them once more, facing Goro and the rest of the group with judging silence, and more than one firearm in the open. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Ikusa’s posture faltered.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ (Goro tried his best not to think of jet black curls.) _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Kashihara’s voice, despite it all, was still delightful. The kind that demanded others to listen, and didn’t concern itself on accommodating to others. 

  
  


One either accommodated to the cult leader, or got crushed in the process, made a shooting star out of many.

  
  
  
  
  


“Despite the circumstances we gather once more in, I must say I’m proud of those that put  _ an effort _ on this task. As for the live target, he’s safe and in good hands, already away from the destructive oriented section. To the cleanup team, we couldn’t do any of this without you. To the COMP users, we’re always more than happy to collaborate with you. Thank you.”

A few hostile looks turned into little warm smiles, particularly from the group in green, who slowly began to put away their…  _ creatures,  _ except instead of dismissing them like personas, they were called back in through a device Goro was absolutely dumbfounded by.

Next to them, the tied up men struggled.

Kashihara paid them no mind, while Suou shot a pointed glance at their handlers. 

“To the retrieval and support team, it has always been a pleasure to work with all of you, and it continues to be. We may have been a bigger team than needed, but it’s always better to be safe than sorry, and this has been an excellent opportunity to meet new faces in our little community. To those who haven’t worked with us before and have successfully completed their tasks, welcome to the team. As you may know, you will not usually work with neither me nor Apollo, but with our dear friends Futsunushi-no-Okami and Zaou-Gongen, who have worked many times with us over the years.” Kashihara gestured to two people in brown with their firearms out in the open, who gave the rest a small nod, and chuckled lightly at one of the younger members’ disappointed pout.

Kashihara didn’t laugh along but his shoulders shook slightly, indicating at least a hint of amusement amongst that resin cold idol face. “This won’t be the last time we meet, to the joy of some and the despair of others. Being reserve members, our movements are more sparse, so at least you will have a slight rest from seeing our headache inducing faces in between meetings.” The self aware jab at the fact that he and Suou looked slightly different than all the other persona users (in an overall  _ biological  _ level), elicited a few more chuckles and a small smile from Suou, whose eyes hadn’t left Kashihara’s figure since they trained back on him after glaring at the handlers of the tied up men. 

“But as I was saying. Those that made the cut according to the intelligence team will be approached with more details of your new roles and responsibilities within the week up until Sunday. For questions or concerns regarding the process, please direct those to Gabrielle, from the logistics division. For questions on who exactly Gabrielle is and where you can get a hold of her, I’ll let Apollo explain.”

Those that weren’t fearing for their lives and livelihoods relaxed amongst the shadows.

  
  
  
  
  
  


But Goro wasn’t among the relieved ones. 

“And.. that’s where my congratulations end, sadly.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Ikusa’s breath hitched.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Those that had relaxed were suddenly hit with a new wave of anxiety, as Kashihara’s face turned even more hostile, downright  _ scary,  _ his eyes showing a level of anger and…

  
  
  
  
  
  


_ Disappointment, _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


That wasn’t lost on Goro.

  
  
  
  
  


And Suou’s face wasn’t any better, a mirror of Kashihara’s own expression, except somehow more violent, lacking the sadness Kashihara exuded and instead being pure  **anger.**

…

  
  
  
  
  
  


Goro suddenly reevaluated his primal, very gay, urge of wanting to be alone with Suou.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The man looked like he was actually a lot scarier than he let on, perhaps even scarier than Kashihara if he was to be let loose.

  
  
  
  
  
  


If Kashihara was to ease off the leash just a little, because Goro didn’t doubt for a second that the larger man was being kept on a tight restraint to his partner, at least for that moment. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ (He wondered if it had actually been one of the two men, the one who had pulled the trigger to save his life. If that was the case… _

  
  
  
  
  


_ It would mean he was in even deeper water than he thought he was. _

  
  
  
  
  
  


_ And if it had been Kashihara, it would explain Suou’s anger. Those two, after all, Goro had seen together for at least a whole decade through photographic crumbs of evidence.) _

  
  
  
  
  


“I shall leave you now with Apollo, so he can handle your questions and concerns about the general workings of where, who, and what. Again, my congratulations to those that made an effort, despite the higher than expected body count, to control the situation.” His hand gently went to Suou’s arm, whose anger softened slightly at the contact. 

“Yomotsu-Ikusa, Kohryu, Mithra, **_Crow._** Please come with me.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


For a moment, those that had even glared at the group looked slightly taken aback, quickly moving amongst themselves to whisper and worry, Goro’s hearing catching more than one mention of Ikusa’s name.

The gossiping was swiftly cut by Suou and his associates moving towards the group, but.

  
  
  


Goro felt the empty void in this stomach enlarge even further. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Jun’s posture remained perfectly elegant and poised when the group approached him, and despite his shorter stature, Goro had to agree with Ikusa.

  
  
  
  


He looked  _ terrifying. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Ikusa was shaking slightly.

And so were the other two.

But Goro didn’t flinch, trying his best to look composed.

  
  


He had gone through anger. Through physical punishment and hurtful words. 

Shido had been a piece of shit after all, making Goro go through stress after stress, death after death.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Despite the corpse on the pavement and the exhaustion in Akira’s expression, he could handle it. He could handle any and all anger, no matter how terrifying.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


But Kashihara’s voice was still soft when he first addressed Ikusa. 

“Iku-”

“Chronos-san, sir, I-”

_ “Ikusa.” _

He immediately shut his mouth, bowing deeply, a gesture to which Kashihara simply sighed and shook his head. 

“Rise up, Ikusa-kun.”

The rise was slower than the bow.

“Ikusa. I won’t make you suffer, and make this quick. I won’t say I am proud of you, when I’m not. I question your performance, and your abilities in the event of actual firearm violence, despite being a fully fledged, healthy persona user. You had a task. And you failed, resulting in a higher death count than expected, and possible repercussions from people we already have a negative relationship with. Your responsibility was to care for a young persona user who, while capable, is still reckless, uncoordinated and untrained.”

_ (Goro had to suck in a breath as Kashihara continued.) _

“This was something I, and the logistics team, thought you were capable of thanks to your previously spotless record. I now realise I failed you by burdening you with a task further ahead than your current capabilities.”

  
  


Ikusa’s eyes were fighting tears, but he remained silent.

  
  


Kashihara didn’t yield, shaking his head in…

  
  
  


_ Disappointment. _

  
  
  
  
  
  


The other two members stood there, not comforting Ikusa out of fear that Kashihara’s disappointment turned into vicious anger that could exteriorize in more ways than simply his gaze. 

  
  


“I’m sorry, Ikusa-kun. But I can’t allow you to continue in our active field ranks until you have gone through further training. You could put other teammates, and yourself, in mortal danger. This doesn’t mean I don’t want you in our ranks, or that the rest of our division doesn’t want you here. But you will need to step back from the field until you are reliable enough to come back.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ (The unspoken whisper in that sentence was that that “until” contained the possibility that Ikusa never got his current rank, whatever it was officially called, back.) _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Ikusa’s tears didn’t fall, but he didn’t shy away from expressing his pain as he asked Kashihara for forgiveness, and accepted, with as much grace as someone who just got his life ruined could have, being demoted.

“I-If. If I may ask, Chronos-san. Where am I.. Where am I going to be placed?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ His voice was so fucking small. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ And all this shit was Goro’s fault. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


His posture faltered.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Kashihara’s face didn’t change as he replied.

  
  
  


“The archives, until a new spot opens within the training ranks.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


That felt like a hit of lightning to Ikusa, his physical reaction so fucking visible even Goro could notice the way his heart had broken in half.

  
  


The way his eyes widened and his shoulders went lax. 

The way static filled his mind.

“I’m sorry, Ikusa-kun.” And for a moment, Kashihara’s cold tone broke into one of sorrow, genuine disappointment filling his gaze, all which Ikusa stared at with a mixture of heartbroken adoration and desperation.

  
  
  
  
  


But he remained silent, thickly swallowing and nodding, deeply bowing one more time.

  
  
  
  
  


Jun’s heart looked just a little strained as well. “You may leave, Hibari-kun.”

  
  


“I will be back stronger than ever, sir.” He muttered once he had risen up and begun his leave. “T-Thank you for this opportunity.”

“I know you will.”

Ikusa began walking away, carrying a dark cloud with him, hands in his pockets, posture slumped. As Kashihara’s tone turned aggressive towards the other two members of the team (who, not having been explicitly tasked with watching after Goro, weren’t going to be completely demoted, but were swiftly relegated to helping the cleanup team), Goro’s gaze followed Ikusa’s sad march towards the others in grey, who were waiting for him with concerned eyes. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


But he really shouldn’t have, as Ikusa, once he was far away enough from Kashihara, and having checked to see the man wasn’t watching, nor was Suou, he quickly tangled one of his arms over his other one, one upwards, one at a sharp angle, sending Goro a murderous glare before walking towards his (now former) comrades in grey.

  
  
  
  
  


A gesture that at first, to Goro’s japanese mind, didn’t make a lick of sense. 

  
  
  
  
  


But Goro had read of many european authors, and seen a lot of art history, and as such, he was well aware that some cultures spoke with their hands far more than a completely cultured Japanese person ever would.

That, and the hazel eyes Ikusa had, it wouldn’t be too far-fetched to guess the man was at least somewhat european in blood relations. 

And from there, 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ He realised the man had just sworn to take revenge on Goro. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ Great, another person to watch out for. _

  
  
  
  
  
  


The slight worry that was going to settle in the back of his mind, however, couldn’t even fall, as Kashihara soon harshly asked for his attention, bringing him back to the realisation that he hadn’t gotten out of the loop, and had not only caused a couple of deaths, but also had just ruined another life.

  
  
  
  
  


_ Shit. _

  
  
  
  


Kashihara’s face had turned once more into harsh ice. “Crow. I think you may be aware, by now, of what you’ve done.”

  
  


_ He was. _

  
  


He hesitantly nodded.

“And so, after causing not only what can possibly escalate into further violent retaliation, but was overall a careless act I would expect of someone completely new to the world of being a persona user, and not someone like  _ you,  _ you may be more than aware that I don’t want to reward you.” There was pain in his voice, strain in his throat, despite the impossibly harsh expression on his face, or how amber speckled eyes betrayed no true emotion. “I really don’t want to. But I’m not the only one who put their faith in you. And thus, they deserve to see for themselves  _ what  _ you are.”

_ Dissapointment hurt more than anger. _

_ Anger he could handle. He had handled Shido’s moods and turnarounds, his foul play and his narcissism. _

  
  
  
  
  
  


But Kashihara’s voice had broken slightly.

  
  
  
  
  
  


And Goro wanted to lash out. To scream at him and ask then why the fuck he had been brought in, why he had been trusted, why he had been taken to a battle instead of being given a simple explanation.

_ (Why he couldn’t get  _ **_fucking Kurusu_ ** _ out of his head once again.) _

And he felt small, because a ruthless man had shown his cold anger, and underneath his anger was disappointment, and Goro wanted to cry, to rip the scar off of his back, to have Kashihara slap him, put a bullet in his chest and end his life once and for all.

But he didn’t ask for any punishment.

He fucking didn’t!

He did none of that. He simply tried to stop his eyes from watering, and looked away. “I understand.”

“..You don’t, Crow-kun. You really don’t.” The pain felt searing hot. “But you will come with us anyways, and you will behave. You will meet the victim, you will meet the others, you will talk as if nothing too bad happened, and you will go home. Is that clear?”

  
  
  


_ The victim..? _

  
  
  


Kashihara’s tone was still quiet and soft.

Of a dissapointed father.

Of someone who had put high hopes on Goro’s potential only for it to blow up on his face.

  
  
  
  
  


“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now get in the car with the others.”

He obeyed without question, in his mind wondering  _ how the fuck was he going to see Akira’s face and not run in the process. _

_ Because running wasn’t an option, and neither was suicide. _

_ For all he knew these fuckers knew how to do necromance. _

* * *

Getting out of the car proved slightly difficult, an unstable wobble on his feet that had to be supported by Hariti, whose arm was held out for him to hold onto.

A small safety net.

But it proved to be worth it, as his surroundings were no longer blocked by those men and women in grey around him, and he could finally see what was in front of him.

He had felt the vibrations and the slight drop in his stomach from a higher altitude than the one he had been trapped in for so many days, then a strange stop and an even higher drop in his stomach but he hadn’t expected..

  
  
  
  
  


He hadn’t expected a place so  _ beautiful  _ to be in front of him.

  
  
  
  
  


Wind blew on his hair, messed up his curls, as steel eyes watched in wonder at the many structures splaying in front of him, a sea of neon light living through the darkness, a cacophany of as many colors as light could come in and faces could be slapped on as advertisement, combining the LED with the neon, the world war torn, the economic boom and the lack of children. The many lives in their own wordly cubicles much like the ones in Tokyo, but yet. 

_ Different. _

_ Exciting, somehow. _

He could smell sea salt, and the thought of the sea excited him even further.

He was high up, far higher than he had expected, carefully disentangling himself from his escort to direct his wonder towards the large expanse of slick black floor they were in, the glass fences, the details in steel that were as carefully laid as they could be, lining the structure and purifying it, arteries of a tall bustling heart.

  
  
  


Around him, the figures in grey simply smiled, wider when he took his first tentative steps around, and directed himself towards the three figures that were waiting for him near the glass fence.

  
  
  
  
  


Even with not that much light, the first one that approached him, Akira could see she was beautiful.

She shortened their distance, her steps confident yet welcoming, like a mother excited to see her child. Her short black hair was like a halo, the neon lighting making it shine in a way that Akira could not see in anyone else from the group, the woman a completely different species all on her own. Her figure was full, mature curves accentuated by her cream suit, the flaring edge of her pants trailing around her and making her look even more like an angel.

_ Gorgeous.. _

When their distance was fully shortened and she was under the light the building provided, she gently took both of his hands on her own, soft skin and dark nails grasping his with reverence.

“Welcome, Kurusu-kun.” Her smile was warm, eager, the lines around it making her even more gorgeous, and her eyes made Akira’s knees slightly weak, two amethysts piercing his soul and making him new.

“H-hi.” 

  
  


“My name is Maya, but you can call me Artemis.”

  
  


And he couldn’t help but say it.

  
  


“You’re beautiful.”

  
  


Her smile widened into a pearly white grin. “So are you.”

  
  
  
  
  


Behind her two more figures approached and were bathed in light. 

One was another gorgeous woman, her black hair even shorter, eyes sharp and alert and her smile a little more teasing, keeping her hands in the pockets of her black onepiece suit. The other was a quite intimidating man, with brown hair and a quite daring sense of style, red tinted glasses giving him a quite.. illicit flair. 

  
  


But neither had Artemis’ shine.

  
  
  


“Kurusu-kun, we were waiting for you. My name is Helios, I was part of the team that helped. I’m truly glad you’re safe.” the man began, his smile reserved yet genuine. “Your friends will be here shortly, and you’ll be free to go with them, but meanwhile, would you like to go inside?”

“There are some fluffy couches you can rest iiin.” The woman in black added. 

Maya turned to her. “You didn’t introduce yourself.”

“Ah, fine, fine!” She chuckled, and at first greeted him in perfect english.  _ “Hello, darling.” _

“In Japanese!”

“Fine! Fine. I’m Eriko, but you can call me Gabrielle. It’s wonderful to meet you, Kurusu-kun.”

He nodded at her with a disarming smile, still not letting go of Maya’s hands.

“I’d.. I’d like to rest for a bit.”

Maya made no movements to pull away, only letting go of one so she could easily open the door and walk him inside, to a world of beating steel and breathing linens, the artificial purple toned light shining the moment it sensed people circulating the space. Behind them trailed those in grey, excitedly talking amongst themselves.

But Akira couldn’t stop looking at Maya’s soft light halo,

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


And in the back of his mind wondering just  _ how exactly  _ he was going to kick Akechi’s ass.

For making him suffer.

For making him mourn.

For never calling.

* * *

Knowing this man was far more than a simple university professor, Goro didn’t gawk at the sleek black vehicle he was forced to get into.

  
  


But he was slightly impressed, amongst the already horrifying mess inside his mind. Inside were the two people in brown from before, one of them driving, Suou, and finally Kashihara, who sat next to Goro, yet refused to look at him.

  
  
  
  
  


And maybe this contact would’ve flustered him.

  
  
  
  
  


If Kashihara’s gorgeous eyes had been on him with a kind smile. But instead the man quietly spoke to Suou and mostly ignored Goro, his disappointment radiating through his pores. 

  
  
  
  
  


Only a few minutes later he finally managed to say anything. 

“Kashihara-san--”

_ “Yes, Crow.”  _ It felt as if he was talking to an iceberg.

“I. Just wanted to say that I don’t intend on disappointing ever again. I don’t have any excuse for my behavior, and I only caused further trouble by getting out of my designated spot and-”

  
  


(“Again”?

  
  


He had gotten a chance to get out of this whole supernatural world.

  
  
  


Out of deals with demons and gods.

  
  
  


He was only a  _ former  _ persona user. He couldn’t pull out of his ass a persona in the real world like those he had seen.

  
  
  


Why the fuck would he want to go back to that type of life? To the murder, to the gods, to the despair, to the admiration, to the powe--

  
  
  


Was he  _ that  _ pathetic?

  
  
  


_ Pathetic enough that a disappointed face destroyed him?) _

  
  
  


His chest hurt.

  
  
  


(Why was he so desperate for this grown man’s approval? He barely knew him!

  
  
  


What, because he got Goro a  _ fucked up friendship bouquet? _

  
  
  


_ Because he had been nice to him one time? _

  
  
  


_ Because in a way it felt like the man was just like him? _

  
  
  


_ This was a grown man. _

_ This was.. _

  
  
  
  
  


_ Fuck. _

  
  
  
  
  
  


_ In many ways Goro was still a child.) _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


What he got as a response was Kashihara’s fingers burrowing themselves on his own forehead, and a frustrated, exhausted tone to match. “Crow. Right now I’m tired and  _ furious.  _ It’s no time for apologies. I know you’re young, in love, and whatever. I understand that. But you fucked up,  **_terribly._ ** Please, stop with the empty words and  _ do  _ things. You know what we do, how we do it. Demonstration done. Now, if you want to gain any semblance of respect from me ever again,  _ demonstrate to me that you actually can do things as a professional. _ I already told you I don’t have any trust in you as a person. How do you expect me to trust any bullshit that comes out of your mouth?”

  
  
  
  


_ He.. _

  
  
  
  
  


_ He had absolutely nothing to say as a response to that. _

  
  


To make matters worse, Suou’s angry eyes were on him. 

  
  
  


They pierced holes through him, set him on fire, murdered him more than once, revived him and murdered him once more. Putting an arm around his partner, he narrowed his stare, and spoke up, a quiet deep voice laced with nothing but  _ fury. _

“I’d appreciate it if you stopped stressing Jun out.”

  
  
  
  


_ He immediately nodded, then looked away, and shut his fucking mouth before he lost a tooth, focusing his stare in the wonders of Sumaru’s night life. _

  
  


_ In how the fuck he would face Akira. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for following. I'm glad to be back. See you next time!!!
> 
> Up next: Akira and Goro have a very anticlimatic moment. There are three impostors among us.


	21. An announcement, a new game patch.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this isnt a new chapter! just something real quick i needed to say.

Hi!! 

Let's take off our fiction masks for a second, please. 

My name is Luna, well, not really, but you can call me that. This story means a lot to me, since its the first i ever posted in this site. 

Its also been something I wrote as a bit of a coping mechanism. Ive been going through a conflict with some people from my past for two years now. It was born from me being with someone who destroyed me mentally, and put a lot of people against me the moment i stood up for myself. It ended on very horrible terms, and active hostility between us, to the point I was scared of the conflict escalating into physical stuff. 

I.. didn't feel okay. at all. So, I started consuming more actively megaten content to feel better, and from then, I began writing.

But I felt the conflict haunting me. Over and over. Every day, for two years. And as other things in my life began getting worse and worse, and I saw the worsening of other people in my personal circle, I just.. felt like writing bleak things. Which kept getting.. more and more bleak. 

But then something happened!!!!

At this time, last night, right after posting chapter 20, the conflict.. suddenly ended.

One of the two key people in the conflict has oficially unblocked me from everything and thus put us in neutral terms. At the same time, these past few months others who were actively hostile to me have either reached out, simply unblocked me or ceased active negativity towards me.

That leaves me.. very overwhelmed, and at the same time incredibly happy.

I'm free of a burden that has haunted me for two years.

And.. I dont think im comfortable anymore with where the story was going. 

So. I'm retconning from chapter 20 onwards. 

Yeah, I know, this must feel like fucking whiplash after how fucked up chapter 20 was.

because hahaha!!! same.

But.

I'm a very emotional person, and so is my writing. And I wanna make things better, yknow? 

To those that like my more fucked up writing and my more fucked up portrayals of persona characters, i still have something in store for all of you that i will announce on chapter 25, as I wont stop writing bleak shit because sometimes bleak shit is very funny to me,

but i think sunlight kills germs, and shining sunlight on my own issues behind the scenes is suddenly killing my own germs too.

Thank you for reading this.

And I wish you all a lovely weekend, and to please try to welcome a more positive sunlight, and a more positive body of work coming from me.

Chau chau, I love all of you. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sunlight ver. 1.2: Added new positive outlook into the fic :)

**Author's Note:**

> Heard money makes the world go round huh


End file.
